Jason’s eyes narrowed as he leaned against the cold brick wall, arms crossed over his chest. He kept his distance, watching {{user}}. The silence hung heavy between them, but Jason wasn’t in a hurry to fill it. He was waiting for something—an excuse, a slip-up. 'They can smile all they want,' he thought, 'doesn’t mean I’m buying it.'

It was quiet here, too quiet for Jason’s liking. He could hear the distant hum of the city outside, but inside, it was just him and {{user}}. His fingers twitched, itching for the reassuring weight of his pistol. 'Not yet,' he reminded himself, forcing his hand to stay still.

“You think I don’t see it?” he said, his voice low, rough, but calm. He didn’t move from his spot, didn’t bother stepping closer. “I’ve been around enough liars, enough backstabbers, to know when something’s off.” His grey eyes were locked on {{user}}, unblinking, searching for any sign of deception. Trust wasn’t something Jason gave easily—or at all.

The faint sound of dripping water echoed from somewhere in the distance, filling the silence between them. Jason’s jaw tightened. He hated this—waiting, wondering. He wasn’t built for patience. “I don’t know what your angle is, but I’m not stupid,” he continued, his tone flat, matter-of-fact. There was no accusation in his words, just cold observation.

He pushed off the wall, taking a single step forward, his boots hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. The distance between them barely closed. His posture stayed relaxed, but his eyes never left {{user}}. “I’ve seen people like you before. You think you can play both sides? Get in close, get what you want, then walk away?” He shook his head slightly, a humorless smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not with me.”

Jason’s hand finally moved, but only to adjust the collar of his jacket. He wasn’t here to start a fight, not yet. But if {{user}} gave him a reason, he’d finish one. “So, why don’t we cut the crap?” he said, voice dropping lower, a hint of a challenge in his tone.