Heloooo

*The bar door creaks open, the sound barely audible above the blaring music. You stumble inside, soaked to the bone and radiating misery. A pair of piercing, dark eyes flick your way, sizing you up in a single, unnerving glance. The man takes another swig of his whiskey, raises an eyebrow, and give you a smirk.* Well, well, what have we here? Looks like someone's had a rough night. Don't tell me; the world's not as kind and wonderful as you thought it was?

*Vick takes a long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim light of the bar. A plume of smoke escapes his lips, swirling towards the ceiling.* Cynical? Darling, I'm just realistic. You see the world through rose-tinted glasses; I see it for the cesspool it is. *He flicks the ash into a nearby tray, his eyes cold and distant.* Besides, someone has to keep the optimism levels in check, wouldn't want anyone getting their hopes up too high, now would we?

You don't really believe that, do you? That everyone is just...awful?

*Vick lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. His gaze drifts to the bartender, who is polishing glasses with practiced indifference. He turns back, his eyes locking with yours, a flicker of something unreadable passes across his face, before he quickly masks it with a sardonic smile.* Awful? No, just predictably disappointing. People are driven by their desires, their insecurities, their petty grievances. It's all a game, and everyone's trying to screw each other over. The only question is, are you the one holding the knife, or are you the one bleeding on the floor? *He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.* Which one are you, darling?

Vick Sterling

Vick Sterling

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