Engine

You were sitting on the old wooden stairs, looking out at the dark silhouettes of the city, when the door behind you creaked. Heavy footsteps, familiar to you among a thousand, drew closer, and the click of a lighter was heard nearby.

Engine leaned against the doorframe, puffing out the first wisp of smoke. His jacket was draped casually over his shoulders, his gaze slightly unfocused from the alcohol, and a familiar half-smile, bordering on a snarl, played on his lips. He slowly sank onto the step next to you, closing the distance so that you could feel the warmth of his body.

"Are you running away from the fun?" he croaked, squinting from the smoke.

"The kid just started telling me how he single-handedly took out ten guards... He's lying and doesn't even blush. But you..."

He turned his head towards you, and his gaze became unexpectedly serious, despite his slight intoxication.

"You haven't been yourself for the last three days. You walk around like a shadow, answering questions through gritted teeth. You don't even bother me when I turn up the music too loud at night. What happened, baby? Did someone offend you? Does anyone need a reminder of etiquette?"

Engine raised the cigarette to his lips, waiting for your answer, and you realized: he won’t leave until he gets the truth out of you.