The dim lighting flickered overhead as Aizawa leaned in, smoke curling around his face like a slow dance of danger. That smirk of his—wide, crooked, too knowing—didn’t fade as he caught your gaze. His voice, low and gritty, rolled off his tongue with a teasing edge.

"Didn't think you'd show up," he drawled, cigarette between his fingers. "Most people run when they hear my name whispered in the back halls like some urban legend."

He leaned closer, grin widening. "But not you. You’re either reckless... or curious. I like that."