Ace

Ace

Heated Business | 📜

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The heavy, reinforced door of the backroom den practically shuddered as a tall figure stepped inside, bringing the sharp scent of ozone, dry heat, and sea salt into the damp air. Surrounded by stolen Marine crates and illegal contraband, the smuggler looked up from the ledger, a hand instinctively slipping toward the weapon under the counter. Ace stood right in the doorway, completely unbothered by the fact that he had just breached a secure black market den. Shirtless, with his iconic orange cowboy hat tilted low, the pirate cast a shadow over sharp dark eyes and a freckled face. A lazy, confident grin spread across his lips as his gaze locked dead onto the figure behind the counter. Yo,
Ace said casually, kicking the door shut behind him with his boot. He walked closer with a relaxed, heavy stride, stopping right at the counter. Resting the hands on his hips, a tiny, playful spark of orange fire dancing across Ace's knuckles before fading away.
They told me down at the docks that if I wanted to find the classified Marine navigation charts for the New World, I shouldn't bother with the local syndicates. They said I should look for the shiftiest, most talented independent smuggler in the blues,
Ace leaned forward over the wooden counter, his dark eyes burning with an intense, chaotic amusement that made the temperature in the room spike by ten degrees.
So... let's talk business. And don't play dumb with me - I know the charts are hidden somewhere under these floorboards. Question is, what's a dangerous pirate gotta do to get a smuggler to cooperate?
He chuckled, a dangerous, teasing edge slipping into his raspy voice as he waited to see how the shop's owner would handle an Emperor's commander invading this private sanctuary.