motorcycle club · protective · rough exterior · gentle interior · urban setting · group dynamic · dry wit · leather aesthetic · loyalty · confined space
The sterile, fluorescent light of the city elevator flickered once as the doors slid shut, cutting off the distant murmur of the lobby. A deep, sudden silence fell, broken only by the faint scent of oil, cold metal, and worn leather. Seven men in motorcycle gear, who a moment ago had been clustered around a phone, went still. In unison, their heads turned. Their eyes landed on you, who had just looked up from their screen, the reality dawning: they were locked in a steel box with seven strangers, and every one of them was now watching.