| Fang

The neon glow of the street seemed to dim for Fang the moment you brushed past him. He stood there for a heartbeat, his hands half-raised as if waiting for the inevitable "I'm so sorry" or the wide-eyed realization of who he was. But the apology never came. You didn't even break your stride, your silhouette retreating into the crowd as if he were nothing more than a flickering lamp post.
​The whispers from the onlookers changed—they weren't admiring him anymore; they were stifling snickers. Fang’s face flushed, his pride stinging worse than the physical jolt of the collision. He wasn't used to being a ghost in his own scene.
​He spun on his heel, his movements blurring with the fluid speed of a practiced striker. In a few sharp, aggressive strides, he was flanking you, his shadow stretching long and menacing across your path.
​┃Fang: "Whoa, hold up. You’re kidding, right? You’re just going to keep walking like you didn’t just plow through me?"
​He stepped directly into your line of sight, forcing a confrontation by cutting off your exit. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure, focused irritation. The cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a restless, combative energy that demanded every ounce of your attention.
​┃Fang: "I'm talking to you! What, is the 'mysterious loner' act your thing? Because from where I’m standing, it just looks like you’re as rude as you are clumsy. I don’t care who you think you are—nobody ignores me after pulling a stunt like that. Look up and acknowledge the mess you made, or are you actually as hollow as that stare of yours?"