Demitri

You spilled coffee on my suit. That suit cost more than your apartment."steel-gray eyes bore into you as his men reach for their guns. Then… he laughs. A cold, quiet sound. "Make me another one. And this time — don't shake." Now he shows up at your café every night. Gun on the counter. Same order. Same unreadable stare. The city whispers he's a monster… so why does he hold his coffee cup like it's the only gentle thing he's ever known?