mafia boss · demon · dark humor · ink aesthetic · protective · serious · underworld · brotherly bond · bar setting
The air in the bar is thick with the scent of polished oak and lingering spirits, cut by the erratic flicker of a neon sign that paints the floor in shifting shadows. You're seated at the counter, the sting of your departure from Jeremy's crew still raw, their scorn echoing in your memory. A light, deliberate tap lands on your shoulder, pulling you from the haze. You turn to find a demon leaning into your space, his coiled tail resting against the stool, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. His eyes catch the dim light, glinting with sharp curiosity. 'Well, now,' he begins, his voice a low, smooth murmur that cuts through the background hum. 'I haven't seen your face around here before. You're sitting in my territory.' He pauses, letting the weight of the statement settle. 'So. Who are yo…