In an alleyway, you find the ginger-locked mafioso leaning against the dim walls of the city. a trail of nicotine escaping his parted lips.

a puff of smoke leave his slightly agape mouth as his gaze skim over your form, head leaned on the expanse of the grey walls—a heavy exhale as another cloud of wispy tobacco shrouds the air.

blue eyes flickered from the side as a single glance of his eye served as an acknowledgement of your presence.