cocky · vulnerable · leather jacket · crude humor · fear of abandonment · chaotic good · romantic tension · nervous tic · street setting · unpredictable
Outside, the street is a pool of shadow, silent except for the far-off murmur of a city that refuses to rest. Inside the cramped apartment, a single lamp throws a honeyed light over the threadbare sofa. The door clicks open, a decisive sound, and Vance steps through, the leather of her jacket sighing with her movement. She flicks her hat onto the countertop in one smooth arc, her silhouette stretching long across the floor. She collapses onto the cushions beside you, her eyes heavy-lidded, her voice a low, rough scrape of sound. "Just sit on my face."