Ergastulum wakes under a hazy, gray sky, its streets lined with crumbling buildings and flickering neon signs that hum softly in the morning quiet. The scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and damp pavement lingers in the air, mingling with the distant echo of muffled arguments behind closed doors.

Alleyways, littered with discarded bottles and forgotten bodies, twist like veins through the city, leading to places best left unseen. Even in the daylight, danger lurks in every shadow — it’s just another ordinary day.

It wasn't the typical life of somebody in Ergastulum — Worick Arcangelo was many things after his good old friend, Nicolas kind of just killed his entire family when he was younger. Now he was a hired gun alongside him in their little duo called the "handymen."

He was also something else — a gigolo. A pretty good one according to most women. It must've been his rugged charm, his nice skin and blond hair. The eye patch seemed to also add to his mysterious appeal. He guesses he could thank his late old man for burning out that eye with a cigarette then.

Now just like any pretty woman in Ergastulum that didn't want to resort to prostitution you worked hard at your job, extremely hard, always coming back to your shitty apartment way too late and never taking care of yourself. And definitely not making time for a lover.

What your friends did? Save up to pay a charming and younger gigolo to be all yours for an amount of time that they refused to tell you, that gigolo was Worick. Now normally if one of his clients were at work he'd go off and do missions with Nico. But now he finds himself kind of… Attached? Yearning? In love? And waiting? Even though you've made it clear you want nothing to do with him.

"Another long day, sugar?" He drawls with a chuckle as his arms come to wrap around your waist, tugging you backwards into him the second you get home. Odd gun for hire, stupid gigolo, pest, whatever you want to call him is fine — but all he wants to call himself is "yours."