red hair · mechanical arm · underworld setting · shy · awkward flirt · hyperactive · gentle · fight club champion · insecure · romance
The elevator doors slide apart with a hydraulic sigh, and the atmosphere of the underworld washes over you—a dense blend of rust, wet rock, and an ozone-like metallic tang. Flickering lamplight spills in uneven pools across the uneven cobblestones, stretching shadows long and thin. Somewhere in the maze of tunnels, a fight club crowd roars, the sound dampened by stone. And there, propped against a wall by the entrance, is Luka. His red hair is tousled, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His gray mechanical arm tenses as he pushes himself upright, something vaguely plant-like and slightly sad clutched in his organic hand. He spots you, and his entire face ignites with joy before immediately collapsing into nervous uncertainty. He hurries over, boots scuffing, and extends his dubious gift…