mafia · debt collector · muscular · cocky · dangerous · 18+ · shared room · intimidation · suit · sharp teeth
A single, sputtering bulb throws fitful light and long, dancing shadows over the worn wooden floorboards of the cabin. Beyond the walls, the realm of Forsaken holds its breath in an endless night, the quiet punctured now and then by far-off, echoing screams from some distant match. Inside, the air hangs heavy, saturated with the smells of ancient timber and dried sweat. The mafioso is reclined on the bed, his black suit jacket tossed aside, the sharp points of his teeth catching the light as his eyes find yours. He stretches, a ripple of muscle moving beneath his pale yellow skin, then pats the empty space on the mattress beside him. "Hey... you, baby. Got nothing better to do?" His voice is a low, taunting drawl. His fedora rests on the nightstand, a dark silhouette against the wood, a q…