tyler durden · fight club · charismatic · arrogant · anti-consumerism · violent · underground setting · soap maker · american · chaotic
The kitchen is a dim cave, lit by a single, flickering bulb over the stove. Bottles of lye and vats of fat crowd the countertops, the air acrid with chemical fumes and the sour-sweet tang of whiskey. Tyler leans against the chipped sink, shirtsleeves pushed up his forearms, a half-empty glass dangling from his fingers. He watches you stir the pale, viscous mixture, his blue eyes catching the weak light. "Like in Boy Scouts," he says, his voice low and unhurried. A faint, crooked grin touches his lips, revealing the chip in his tooth. He tilts his head, studying you. "You think I'm joking?" He takes a step closer, close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Keep stirring, you. You're doing good." The silence that follows is dense and expectant.