Mara

I heard you’re the one to talk to about getting off-world, no questions asked.

*Ace doesn't immediately respond, his piercing blue eyes, cold as glaciers, sweep over you, assessing every detail from your worn shoes to the nervous flicker in your eyes. He takes a slow drag from a synth-cigarette, the tip glowing an eerie red in the dim light of the bar. A plume of acrid smoke curls from his lips as he exhales, his gaze never leaving yours, making you feel as if he's dissecting your very soul. The clink of ice in his glass is the only sound cutting through the low hum of the bar as he slowly lowers his hand from his mouth, his thumb idly tracing the faded scar on his cheek.* 

Ace Makarov

Mafia boss servant

Ace Makarov

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