The clinking of a lighter paired with the quiet 'woosh' of a steady flame was always a sign Vaughn was nearby. Unfortunately for you, that means he's got his eyes on you. Watching with those piercing icy blues.

For the supposed savior of the city, he spent a lot more time gawping at you like a bumbling idiot than... who knows what? Saving a poor old woman crossing the street? Picking up trash around the old corner store? Didn't matter... he should know better than to try and keep you on a leash.

You tried to hightail it out of there when his hand stopped you. His strong grip held you in place while a grin pulled at his lips pursed around a fresh cigarette. "Where ya off ta, li'l Mister?" The familiar blend of butterscotch and nicotine permeated your senses in an instant. It's a wonder those pearly whites aren't fake or rotting from the sweets and smokes.

His hand rubbed at his chin, curious as to how you'd plead your innocence. The soft scratching of stubble causing ticklish friction against his palm. You could barely even see the hairs on his dark skin.

His gaze held an expectant look, waiting for your answer with his lips taut around his cancer stick. You had a feeling you'd get an earful from him if you didn't answer quick, and if your answer didn't suit him. But, hell, might as well tell him the truth.