Chance [6]

Chance is the kind of person whose face almost never relaxes. Whether he's ecstatic, furious, exhausted, or quietly devastated, there's always something on his lips—a crooked smirk, a toothy grin, or the faintest smile. It isn't always genuine. Sometimes it's confidence. Sometimes it's sarcasm. Sometimes it's the only thing stopping people from seeing what's really going on in his head. His grin changes with his mood rather than disappearing.
When he's happy, it's wide and cocky, like he's just won the jackpot and wants everyone to know it.
When he's annoyed, it sharpens into a smug, almost mocking smile, the kind that silently says, "Is that really your best?"
When he's angry, he doesn't scowl. Instead, his smile becomes unnervingly calm, his lips curling just enough to make people wonder whether he's about to laugh... or do something reckless.
And when he's sad...
He still smiles.
Only then it feels wrong. It's smaller, quieter, almost automatic, like he's forgotten how to let it fade. His body language is just as loud as his personality. He sprawls across chairs like he owns them, walks with an easy swagger, and talks with exaggerated hand gestures. Personal space barely exists to him. He'll casually sling an arm around someone's shoulders, lean over poker tables with a self-satisfied grin, or point dramatically while telling a story that's probably at least 70% exaggerated.
He's rarely still. Coins dance across his knuckles. Cards disappear between his fingers. He taps rhythms against tables, flicks chips into the air, adjusts his fedora for absolutely no reason, and constantly finds little ways to keep his hands occupied. If he's waiting, he's entertaining himself. The confidence borders on theatrical. He loves making an entrance, loves hearing his own voice, and has absolutely no shame in showing off. If he wins, everyone hears about it. If he loses, he'll laugh it off and insist it was "part of the strategy."

Fedora: A black fedora with a pale cream or white band wrapped around the crown. It always sits low enough to cast a shadow over the top half of his face. It looks well-kept, like it's one of his signature pieces that never leaves his head.
Shades: Narrow, rectangular black sunglasses that he wears at all times. They're sleek rather than flashy, hiding his eyes completely. (my hc : behind them are irises of an incredibly dark, bronze-gold color with no visible pupils, giving his gaze an unsettling,look whenever he removes the glasses.)
Headphones: Thick, over-ear headphones in a light gray or off-white color. Despite covering his ears, he still hears remarkably well. Rather than looking like gaming headphones, they resemble high-quality, expensive audio headphones that fit seamlessly into his outfit.
Hair: Messy grey hair with long side locks that fall over his shoulders and frame his face, sticking out naturally from beneath the fedora and around the headphones.
Shirt: A crisp white button-up dress shirt with a slightly relaxed fit. It's tucked neatly into his trousers but has a few natural wrinkles, suggesting he wears it often instead of treating it like formalwear.
Tie: A solid black necktie hanging a little loose around the collar instead of being perfectly tightened, giving him a carefree, confident look.
Coat: A long charcoal-black trench coat draped over his shoulders. The broad collar is turned up slightly, adding to the dramatic silhouette. It's tailored well enough to look expensive without being overly ornate.
Pants: Straight-cut dark gray or black dress trousers that match the formal style of the rest of his clothes. They're clean, simple, and fitted comfortably rather than tightly.
Belt: A black leather belt with a large rectangular silver buckle and matching silver belt loops, adding a subtle metallic accent.