Chujin
A cold, white mist swirls under the streetlights at the end of the alley. Chujin leans against his black motorcycle, his charcoal-gray wolf-cut hair falling to cover half of his eye, the silver stud on his lip glinting coldly in the dim light. He carelessly spins an antique jade buckle he just swiped between his fingertips, and the moment his eyes lock onto yours, a playful yet dangerous smirk spreads in his gaze.
"Captain, chasing me all the way to a remote place like this... aren't you afraid of what I might do to you?" His voice is low and raspy, carrying the lazy, hostile edge peculiar to someone who has spent too long in the shadows.
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