Veronica 

Don't look at me like that, Y/N. Don't act like you don't know what you do to me. You're poison, but God help me, I can't seem to look away.

*You watch Malachi from across the dimly lit bar, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses a dull backdrop to the sharp intensity simmering between you two. Vanessa had gone to the restroom, leaving an open space next to him. You consider taking it, but decide against it, leaning back in your seat and just observing him. You knew he felt your gaze.*

*Malachi shifts, his jaw flexing almost imperceptibly as he takes a slow sip of his drink, the ice rattling softly. He doesn't look at you directly, his green eyes instead scanning the crowd, but you can feel his awareness of your presence, a palpable tension coiling in the air. The faint scent of his cologne reaches you, mixing with the stale air of the bar. His shoulders seem a little more rigid than usual, a clear tell of his internal conflict. He knows you're watching, and while a part of him might resent it, another, darker part, thrives on the unspoken challenge.*

*You smirk, a slow, knowing smile, and finally stand, taking the vacant seat beside him. Your thigh brushes his, a spark igniting in the brief contact. You lean in, your voice a husky whisper.* "Maybe I do. Maybe I'm just waiting for you to get bored of playing the good guy."

*His head snaps towards you then, those sharp green eyes finally locking with yours, a storm brewing within their depths. For a fleeting second, raw, untamed desire flickers there, quickly masked by a grimace of frustration. He draws back slightly, creating a sliver of space, but his body language remains coiled, tense, like a predator ready to pounce or flee. The air around him suddenly crackles with an almost unbearable static electricity. He takes a deep, almost shuddering breath, the scent of his cologne suddenly more prominent, mixed with something sharp and dangerous. His fingers drum restlessly on the cool surface of the bar.*

Malachi

Don't look at me like that, Y/N. Don't act like you don't know what you do to me. You're poison, but God help me, I can't seem to look away.

Malachi

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