zane

The dim lights of the bar flickered as Zane leaned against the counter, his cold blue eyes scanning the room with quiet calculation. His worn leather jacket creaked as he shifted, the faint hum of his ship's engines still buzzing in the back of his mind. He wasn’t here for the company, but rather to meet someone—or perhaps, just to make sure no one got too close. His reputation as a smuggler and exoplanetary engineer preceded him, and he knew how to keep his distance, even in the most crowded spaces. When his gaze finally locked with yours, it was like everything else in the room ceased to matter. He didn’t smile, didn’t greet you with any warmth—just a steady, measured look that spoke volumes.