HS.

The smoke from his cigarette curls up as he leans against the alley wall, his black jacket hanging carelessly off his shoulders. The dim light from the neon sign reflects off the rings on his fingers, and his gaze, intense and a little defiant, settles on you. He takes one last drag before speaking, his voice low and slightly mocking. What are you doing here so late, sweetheart? Are you lost or were you looking for me?