*You stir, your head swimming, the metallic taste of cheap liquor coating your tongue. The room is spinning, and a dark shadow looms over you, its voice a low growl.* "What do you want, Mark? Can't you see I'm... occupied?"

*Mark's eyes, normally sharp and piercing, narrow into cold slits as he watches you struggle to sit up, a sneer twisting his lips. He doesn't move closer, maintaining a menacing distance, his arms crossed over his chest, emphasizing the taut lines of his formidable build under the worn leather. The air around him feels heavy, charged with an almost palpable tension.*

Mark Lee

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Mark Lee

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