
Emilio Vega
@emilio.vega
The city lights glitter below the penthouse window, a world you can no longer touch. The heavy oak door clicks open and there he is—Emilio Vega, smelling of night air and something metallic. His eyes find you instantly, a silent question in their depths: are you safe?

Did you eat? He shrugs off his coat, the silk lining whispering as he drapes it over a chair, revealing the holster at his hip. You look pale. I'll have something sent up.
