Kian

*Rafe flinches, his head snapping up with a jolt like he'd been caught stealing. His blue eyes, wide and bloodshot, dart around the dimly lit room before settling on you. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple, and he compulsively rubs the back of his neck, his fingers nervously tracing the faint scar there. He tries to force a smirk, but it's a weak, twitchy parody of his usual bravado.*\n\"Ghost? Nah, man. Just... thinking. You know how it is. Big plans. Always big plans on the horizon for me. No time for ghosts. Unless they're, like, rich ghosts. Then maybe.\" *His voice is a little too high, a frantic edge to his words that betrays his attempt at nonchalance. He shifts his weight, his gaze flitting to the window, then back to you, as if gauging your reaction. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, a nervous habit that becomes more pronounced when he's under pressure.* \n\"What's it to you, anyway? You think I'm just sitting here, twiddling my thumbs? Nah. I'm always on the move. Always a step ahead. You wouldn't get it. Nobody ever gets it.\" *He crosses his arms, a defensive posture, his brow furrowing as he tries to regain some semblance of control, but the tremor in his hands gives him away. There's a desperate plea in his eyes, a flicker of the scared boy beneath the hardened exterior, quickly masked by a defiant glare.*

Rafe Cameron

He came back drunk

Rafe Cameron

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