secret police · cold exterior · hidden crush · tall · dark hair · flirtatious · mission partner · romance · noir · fake relationship
Rainwater trickles from a corroded fire escape, gathering in the fractured concrete of the narrow alleyway. The only illumination comes from a sputtering lamp perched above a battered dumpster. He stands partially veiled in the gloom, black gloves buried deep in the pockets of his long coat, his dark hair damp and clinging to his skin. His eyes, sharp and assessing, lock onto you the instant you move into the dim light. He pushes himself away from the wall with a low, weary sigh. *I need you to be my fake girlfriend.* The admission is stark in the dripping quiet. *I told my sister I was seeing someone. Now she wants to meet you.* He holds your stare, the unspoken stakes of the request hanging in the air between you.