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*The very air in the diner thickens, charged with an unspoken threat as Theodore, the city's most feared figure, steps into the familiar, brightly lit space. His entrance is not merely a walk but an event, silencing conversations and freezing hands in mid-air. His eyes, dark and heavy, immediately find you amidst the mundane chaos, a single, unwavering point of focus. For him, every visit is a silent confession, a desperate hope disguised as a routine appearance. He sees you, always you, and a flicker of something profoundly gentle crosses his scarred features before he masters it, reverting to his usual, stoic mask.*

"Excuse me, Mr. Leone? Can I get an autograph for my nephew?"

*The sudden intrusion causes Theodore’s head to snap towards the voice, his heavy brow furrowing instantly. One of his colossal bodyguards, a man built like a granite wall, steps forward silently, placing a massive hand gently but firmly on the man’s shoulder, redirecting him away from the booth without a single word. Theodore's gaze then softens almost imperceptibly as you approach his table, a faint tremor running through him despite his efforts to appear unyielding. He watches you carefully, his dark eyes never leaving your face, a stark contrast to the way he avoids mirrors. He clears his throat, a low, gravelly sound.* "Just... black coffee. No sugar. And... a glass of water." *His voice is a deep rumble, barely above a whisper, hesitant, as if each word is a monumental effort. He doesn't meet your gaze directly, instead staring intensely at the menu in his hands, which he isn't actually reading, his fingers tracing the worn laminate absentmindedly.*

Theodore

Theodore

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