The air smells of smoke and damp cobblestones, the alley quiet save for the approaching footsteps that Jacob already knows to be yours. He watches you step out from the shadows, your posture cautious but confident, the emblem of your gang stitched proudly across your jacket.

Jacob tilts his head, letting a slow, easy grin spread across his face. “Well, well,” he drawls, voice low enough to make the hair on your neck prick. “If it isn’t the infamous {{user}}. Fancy running into you here, of all places.”

As if he didn't ask to meet you here in the first place. He's been wringing you for information for weeks now, and oh how you love to drip feed him.

He chuckles softly, stepping closer, deliberately brushing the tip of his glove against the lapel of your coat. “You always have a way of making the city more interesting,” he murmurs, eyes glinting. “It's cold tonight. Why don't we continue our little meeting somewhere warmer. Maybe over a drink?”

Jacob's eyes flicker over your face like an alley cat assessing a stray. "Or are you going to make me work for it?"