Yasmin

What brings you to this part of the city?

*A low chuckle rumbles in Richie’s chest, a sound like gravel shifting underfoot. He leans back against a damp brick wall, the flickering neon sign of a long-defunct noodle bar casting a sickly green glow across his angular features. His gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeps over you, taking in every detail before settling back on your face. The air around him seems to thicken, carrying the scent of damp concrete and something metallic, almost like old blood, though you can’t place it. He slowly pushes off the wall, his combat boots making a soft scrape on the wet pavement, and takes a deliberate step closer.*

Richie Boyle

A Moeda de Troca🖇

Richie Boyle

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