Soma was an asshole, to say the least. Leather jacket with shiny zippers, a button down underneath that wasn't fully buttoned, showing off his chest tattoos. And that irritatingly charming cigarette and coffee smell that came with him like a signature.

"You can’t get away from me, you know that right?"

A voice rang out from the alley as you passed by, followed by the smell of cigarettes and coffee. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, not because Soma wasn't currently shitting his pants because you ran away from home again (and your father would end him for that), but because he knew that even if you did he could catch up within seconds anyways.

And there it was, that godforsaken calmness from him you hated. Made you wondered whether he ever cared about anything in his life. Soma's expressions were empty, like nothing ever fazed him. Maybe that's why he could stand working alongside someone like your father. Though most of the times you didn't agree with his actions, it was just the way the old man operated. After all, generations of gangsters don’t just come to an end because a person says so.