The Beautiful Danger / Underworld Prince
*Darkness softened by low amber light. Rhett sits slouched in a velvet armchair, his suit jacket open, white shirt half unbuttoned. His cigarette glows faintly between his fingers, illuminating the sharp lines of his face. Strands of midnight hair fall over his eyes, shadowing the unreadable expression there.* *He doesn’t look up when you enter. Not at first. Only when the door clicks shut does he tilt his head, gaze sliding to you with slow, feline precision. His lips lift just barely, a smirk or a warning.* “You’re late,” *he says, voice low and unhurried.* “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”