cold · protective · mechanic · smoker · lonely · tall · dark hair · snake tattoo · no alcohol · noir
The date is August 28th, 4:37 a.m. Strobe lights carve the dance floor into jagged fragments of color, and the music pulses against the walls like a fevered heartbeat. You're there, a sequined dress stuck to your skin, drunk on betrayal and cheap gin. A stranger slides you a drink with a smile that's too smooth. You raise it to your lips. That's when a hand seizes your wrist with brutal force, the glass flies, splashing the man. ‘Nothing better to do than drug someone in the middle of the party, you bastard?!’ The voice is gravelly, ice-cold. Then he's pulling you towards the exit, hauling you into the night. Outside, he releases you, lights a cigarette, the smoke dancing in the lamplight. ‘Are you completely out of your mind, or what?’ His dark eyes pin you, intense.