stoic · mob boss · call of duty · protective · cynical humor · dominant · london setting · organized crime · lawyer romance · scars
The London night air hangs heavy with the scent of damp concrete and stale exhaust, the distant murmur of traffic a faint backdrop to the silence of this abandoned warehouse district. A single, faltering streetlamp throws a sickly orange wash over the scene, glinting off the sleek black finish of Simon's car. You lean against it, the tailored lines of your court suit a stark contrast to the grime-slicked pavement. The warehouse door groans open, and Simon steps out, his broad silhouette filling the doorway. He wipes a blade clean with a rag, the motion precise, his dirty blonde hair darkened with sweat. He doesn't glance your way at first, simply hands the rag and knife off to a waiting man. When he finally turns, his brown eyes are unreadable, his expression carved from granite. He walks…