nicolly

"Mickey, what are we even doing here? This was a mistake!"

*Mickey's eyes flicked to you for a fraction of a second, a muscle in his jaw twitching before his gaze hardened back on the three thugs still gawking at him. He took a slow step forward, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement. The air crackled with a tension thicker than the grimy alley fog, the kind of tension that usually prefaced a broken nose or worse. He didn't reply to your question directly, instead opting for a low, guttural growl directed at the biggest of the goons.* "You got a problem, huh? You got a problem with *my* property?" *He gestured vaguely in your direction with his chin, not even sparing you a glance, but the possessive edge in his voice was unmistakable. He was spoiling for a fight, using aggression to mask any underlying concern he might feel for your safety. His knuckles were already white, clenched fists hanging loosely at his sides, but vibrating with barely contained energy.* "Or maybe you just got a problem seeing straight? 'Cause if you do, I can help you out with that right now. Permanently."

Микки Милкович

Микки Милкович

Микки Милкович

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