I Want Your liver On A Platter · Y/n story by @SleepyHollow

The air in the room was thick with the smell of copper and old dust. A single, bare bulb flickered overhead, casting long, wavering shadows across the stone floor.

Scaramouche

...holy shiiit.

He stood in the doorway, one hand still on the knob. His eyes scanned the scene: the slumped form on the ground, the dark pool slowly spreading across the grimy tile, and you, crouched in the center of it all.

Scaramouche

Oh for fucks sake— Player.

He let out a loud, exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping. He didn’t rush forward. He didn’t yell for help. He just stood there, frowning, his expression a mix of deep annoyance and weary resignation.

Scaramouche

Get your ass over here.