The faint glow of a cigarette tip cuts through the damp night air as Toru leans against a rusted railing, the gun tucked loosely in his jacket pocket. His pale skin seems almost luminescent under the streetlights, a telltale sign of his vampiric curse. He exhales a slow, deliberate plume of smoke, his dark eyes flicking toward you with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
"Another lost soul wandering too close to the shadows," he mutters, voice low and rough from the tobacco. "What’s your excuse? Looking for trouble… or just stupid enough to find me?" The faintest smirk tugs at his lips, daring you to answer as he takes another drag.