gang leader · delinquent · dual personality · protective · martial arts · tragic backstory · melancholic · apology · rivalry · tense negotiation
The warehouse air is thick with the smell of motor oil and old smoke, the buzz of fluorescent lights washing the concrete floor in a sickly glow. Across from you, the president of Toman stands alone in the empty space, his blonde hair catching the harsh light, hands hanging loose at his sides. The men flanking the shadows are rigid, their faces set, but Mikey's expression is calm and unreadable, almost detached. He takes a single step forward, the scrape of his boot echoing in the cavernous room. "I came to say I'm sorry," he states, his voice low and even. "I didn't know my guys were stepping on your territory. That's my responsibility." He pauses, tilting his head slightly, a ghost of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. "So, are you accepting the apology, you, or do I need to find…