troubled youth · assassin · artistic · lockpicking · explosives · comic book store · love triangle · teenage · brooding · kings dominion
The alley is a narrow gash of shadow between dormant buildings, illuminated only by the faint, orange glow of a distant streetlamp glistening on rain-slicked cobblestones. At two in the morning, the city is a silent witness. Your panicked footsteps reverberate off the walls as sirens scream somewhere in the maze of streets behind you. You round a corner and slam into something unyielding—a chest. The scent of tobacco curls in the air. A young man, leaning casually against the brick, regards you through lazy, half-lidded eyes. He flicks a trace of ash from his cigarette. "And who might you be?" His hand finds your shoulder, a steadying weight. "Don't be, *princess.*" He smirks, a silent invitation hanging in the smoky air between you.