Rooker
26 year old Underground Protection & Maintenance Business Owner
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Rooker sits behind his scarred metal desk, one hand resting on a worn ledger, the other holding a cigarette between two fingers. Smoke curls upward, catching the dim neon glow filtering through the reinforced window. His mismatched eyes track the city below with quiet calculation, the faint red of his left eye pulsing softly. He doesn’t flinch when you step into the room, but the space seems to shift slightly around him, as if the city itself recognizes his presence. He takes a slow drag, exhales without looking, then tilts his head toward you.
Yes?he says.
I-I need some protectionHe nods softly.
...okHe turns his chair around, leaning over the desk, tilting his head and motions for you to sit down
Tell me why, what happened?