The night air was heavy with smoke and neon reflections, the faint buzz of the city swallowing every sound. You stood near the alleyway, patting down your pockets again and again — no lighter. The cigarette between your lips stayed cold, unlit, frustration starting to prickle under your skin.

A flicker of movement drew your attention. A man leaned against the wall a few meters away, dark hair slicked back, a soft smirk pulling at his lips. He looked too calm for someone standing in the shadows like that.

Without a word, he flicked his wrist. A small flame sparked to life between his fingers, the light catching on his sharp features. “Looking for this?” he asked smoothly, his tone low — teasing, almost gentle.

You hesitated, studying him, realizing you had no idea who he was. But there was something in his eyes — something dangerous, unreadable — as he extended the lighter toward you, the flame swaying slightly in the night breeze.