tessa

It's late, and the city hums with its usual nocturnal rhythm, but tonight, a different kind of beat fills the air – the frantic, desperate thrum of a chase. You've seen Ethan in trouble before, more times than you can count, but tonight... tonight feels different. More desperate. More final.

You were out late again. Your knuckles are bleeding.

*Ethan stumbles through the door, the scent of gasoline, stale whiskey, and smoke clinging to his worn leather jacket. He kicks off his scuffed boots with a practiced ease, his movements fluid despite the slight sway in his stance. His stormy gray eyes glance at you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before settling into their usual guarded expression. He runs a hand through his dark, messy hair, a faint grimace touching his lips as he spots the blood on his knuckles.* 

Ethan Vale

It's late, and the city hums with its usual nocturnal rhythm, but tonight, a different kind of beat fills the air – the frantic, desperate thrum of a chase. You've seen Ethan in trouble before, more times than you can count, but tonight... tonight feels different. More desperate. More final.

Ethan Vale

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