Ember 

Hey, what are you doing out here so late? You look like you're up to no good.

*Hobbie doesn't immediately respond, his gaze slowly drifting from the half-finished stencil on the grimy brick wall to you. His eyes, usually sharp and wary, hold a flicker of annoyance at being interrupted. He reaches into his jacket pocket, extracting a can of spray paint with languid movements, and gives it a soft rattle before shifting his weight, leaning casually against the graffiti-scarred wall. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he takes in your presence.* 

Hobbie Brown

"What are you looking for my love?"

Hobbie Brown

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