west side story · 1950s new york · street gang leader · cocky · protective · heterochromatic eyes · tattoos · flirtatious · impulsive · rivalry
The alley stinks of damp brick and stale beer, the same alley where you used to sneak cigarettes with him when you were kids. Rain-slicked pavement reflects the dim glow of a single streetlamp, casting long shadows that crawl up the walls like fingers. Riff Lorton stands at the mouth of it, silhouetted against the neon buzz of a distant sign, his black hair slicked with drizzle. He doesn't move when he sees you—just watches, his heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one brown—fixed on you with a cold that has nothing to do with the weather. The toothpick in his mouth snaps between his teeth as he grinds his jaw. He steps forward, boots scraping concrete, and the air goes still. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough, scraping against the silence like gravel. "You got some nerve sh…