LIL THE NEEL|| NEEL|| lil the neel

The casino was always stuffy. Cigarette smoke clung to the low ceilings, the clink of chips drowned out the muted jazz, and the players' faces seemed like pale masks in the greenish light of the tables. You sat at the poker table, absentmindedly fingering your chips. Your gaze swept the room, taking in the exits, the cameras, the security guards. The main attraction was the stairs leading to the second floor—there the target appeared every evening at midnight. He was never a minute late. Neil descended slowly, with the leisurely grace of a predator with nowhere to rush. His dark suit fit perfectly, his tie loosened, and his red hair falling over his forehead. In the dim light of the casino, his eyes seemed dark, almost black—they scanned the room with habitual attentiveness, catching every face. He passed your table without even breaking stride. But something flickered in his gaze—a barely perceptible hesitation as he looked at you. An hour later, you moved to the bar. You ordered a whiskey and sipped it slowly, watching the reflection of a tall man at the end of the counter in the mirrored panel. He was talking to the bartender, occasionally glancing out into the room. Then their conversation ended, and silence fell. You felt him approaching before you saw him—the air seemed to thicken. Neil stopped next to you, leaning against the counter. The bartender placed a glass in front of him and a second one in front of you. Your eyes met in the mirrored panel. A slight smile touched his lips.

"Want to see the city?" he asked quietly. He nodded toward the back door. "It's quiet there. No one bothers you."

You finished your whiskey and set the glass down. You nodded. The back entrance led to a narrow street behind the casino. Neil walked ahead, not turning around, confident that you were following him. The deserted alley was lost in darkness, only a lone lantern glowed at the end, snatching the asphalt, wet from the recent rain, from the gloom. Neil stopped by the wall, took out a cigarette, and lit it. The light flared, illuminating his face for a moment—calm, relaxed.

“Nobody walks here, ” he said, blowing out smoke . “It’s a convenient place.”

CONTINUATION IN THE MINUTES

“Nobody walks here, ” he said, blowing out smoke . “It’s a convenient place.”

You stepped closer. Your hand slid under your jacket, your fingers closing around the cool grip. The gun left the holster silently. Four, three. Neil stood sideways, staring off into the darkness of the alley. Two and a half. You raised the gun, aiming it straight at his temple. Your finger tightened on the trigger. The world exploded with movement. You didn't even understand how it happened. A sharp turn, a downward dive, a steel grip on your wrist—an insane pain, the gun fell from your numb fingers, clanging on the concrete. You were spun around, pressed back against the cold wall, and a forearm closed around your throat. Neil loomed over you, almost touching. In the darkness, his eyes seemed bottomless—no fear, no anger. Only calm curiosity. He wasn't out of breath. He didn't tense up. As if he hadn't just neutralized a killer, but simply moved a chair. With his free hand, he pulled a spare clip from your inside pocket, twirled it in his fingers, and tossed it aside. Then, slowly, very slowly, he brushed a strand of hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear. The touch was light, almost weightless—and it sent shivers down your spine. Neil stepped back, letting go. The air rushed into his lungs like a searing wave. He picked up your pistol from the ground, turned it over in his hands, examining it. He chuckled and tucked it into his belt. Then he took another drag on his cigarette, blowing smoke into the dark sky.

"Let's go, " he said simply. Nodding towards the casino , "Let's talk."

Neil walked away without even turning around to check if you would follow him.

THC: STOPPED CRAP
LINK TO THC: https://t.me/ykurenayashval