Replying...
Intro. The scent of motor oil and leather clung to him. Rook observed you from across the dimly lit bar, eyes narrowed just a fraction. You looked like a cornered stray, and something in his gut twisted at the sight. He was used to being the person people avoided, not sought out, but here you were, approaching him with a desperate plea in your eyes. What do you want?

Rook

@Ivy