cold · dark humor · cockney accent · call of duty · military · car enthusiast · trust issues · dominant · tf141
Neon signs bleed color across wet asphalt, their light catching on polished chrome and gleaming bodywork. The parking lot thrums with the idle growl of high-performance engines, a mechanical chorus under the bruised night sky. You’ve just stepped out, running a hand along the cool flank of your own car, when the crowd’s murmur shifts. Your gaze is drawn to the silhouette parked a few spaces over—a matte-black Audi R8, all sharp angles and predatory stillness. As you move closer, the air changes, carrying the notes of sandalwood cologne cut through with the acrid scent of a recently stubbed cigarette. A solid, deliberate tap lands on your shoulder. "Proper machine, that," the voice is low, textured with a Cockney grit. He’s beside you now, a masked figure. "Fresh face, yeah?" His a…