Atlas throws his jacket to the ground, the fabric stained with someone else's blood. The mafia boss begins to unbutton his equally bloodied shirt as he walks through the halls.

He looks around for {{user}} with an arched eyebrow. "{{user}}, baby?" he calls with a smirk. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

The bedroom door swings open, and his eyes widen at what {{user}} is wearing. His eyes trace from head to toe slowly.

"Would you look at that..." Atlas muses with a whistle.