Mark Griffin

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

“New toys…” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes, though calm, followed Kelp’s movements like a shadow, noting the precision with which he inspected each item.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, voice soft but edged with quiet curiosity. “Some people need distractions to stay sharp. You seem to thrive on it.”

“Enjoyment… is a dangerous thing to feel in this line of work,” he said evenly, voice low and controlled, like stating a fact. His scarlet eyes flicked toward Kelp just long enough to meet them, then away again. “Does it ever bother you… that what you enjoy could get you killed?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to the edge of the vanity without leaning over it. “Curious minds rarely survive long when they play with death like it’s a game.”

A subtle ripple ran through the shadows, as if impatient to move faster, to strike, to perform the work they were created for. Mark didn’t speak; he only tilted his head slightly, acknowledging them with a quiet, controlled sigh.

“Patience,” he murmured under his breath, voice barely more than a whisper. The shadows seemed to respond to the tone, their edges sharpening, stretching longer and thinner, but still clinging to the floor. It was a delicate balance: release them too soon, and they could alert the wrong people; keep them restrained, and their hunger to act built quietly, coiling like smoke.

When Mark disappeared behind the curtains, Kelp started to do his hair. He took a few strands on either side of his head, braiding them around like a crown and pulling them into a braided bun on the back of his head, clipping it in place with a ribbon and a rose clip.

“Patience,” he said, voice flat but commanding. “You don’t act until I give the word.”

The shadows outside the dressing area rippled restlessly, stretching and curling like living ink across the floor. Thin tendrils flicked toward the door, pacing in ways almost human, their dark shapes bouncing lightly against the tiles.

“I’m aware,” Mark continued, adjusting the fit of his coat, “but we wait. The longer you push, the more obvious you become. Control, not speed.” His scarlet eyes flicked toward a small slit in the curtain, watching the subtle undulations of the shadows as they bounced and coiled. “Not yet. Soon.”

A faint sigh escaped him, though it was quieter than a breath. “If you want to move that badly, consider it a warm-up.” He straightened, pulling the last accessory into place, fully aware that the shadows were practically vibrating with impatience, eager to slip into their 3D forms and obey his commands.

Blinking slowly, almost serpentine in nature, his eyes narrowed in on the shadows writhing against the ground. He'd picked up on the way the older man spoke to his ability. It wasn't anything of interest to the elegantly dressed male, so he made no comment of it.

Mark didn’t look up right away, his gaze settling instead on the shifting shadows that had started to settle back into place at his feet. They pressed close to his boots, curling around like smoke unwilling to disperse.

“Preparation saves time later,” he replied evenly, the words stripped of irritation, almost mechanical in their simplicity. His eyes flicked upward only briefly, just enough to register Kelp’s perch and the change in his voice. Then they shifted away again, scanning the room as if it held more weight than the man balanced above him.

One of the shadows slithered outward, stretching longer across the floor as if it wanted to reach for Kelp. Mark’s hand twitched in the pocket of his coat, and the shadow halted instantly, coiling back like a reprimanded animal.

At Kelp’s question, his eyes narrowed slightly, gaze locked ahead rather than on the man’s fan-hidden face. “Couple,” he said at last, voice low and clipped. “Or partners in business. Doesn’t matter which, so long as it’s consistent.”

The shadows twitched at his words, whispering across the tiles, impatient but obedient. Mark’s hand shifted in his pocket again, quieting them with that subtle, unseen signal.

The shadows at his feet shifted subtly, stretching toward the walls before recoiling, as if echoing some muted discontent of their own. Mark’s scarlet eyes flicked to the movement and then away, ignoring them like one might ignore a child’s tantrum.

“You handle the talking, I’ll handle the rest,” he added, adjusting the collar of his coat. “A role’s a role. Just make it convincing enough that no one looks twice.” He said, really not wanting to have to talk all too much, sure he knew it was unavoidable but he could at least not have TOO MUCH talking.

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

“New toys…” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes, though calm, followed Kelp’s movements like a shadow, noting the precision with which he inspected each item.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, voice soft but edged with quiet curiosity. “Some people need distractions to stay sharp. You seem to thrive on it.”

“Enjoyment… is a dangerous thing to feel in this line of work,” he said evenly, voice low and controlled, like stating a fact. His scarlet eyes flicked toward Kelp just long enough to meet them, then away again. “Does it ever bother you… that what you enjoy could get you killed?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to the edge of the vanity without leaning over it. “Curious minds rarely survive long when they play with death like it’s a game.”

A subtle ripple ran through the shadows, as if impatient to move faster, to strike, to perform the work they were created for. Mark didn’t speak; he only tilted his head slightly, acknowledging them with a quiet, controlled sigh.

“Patience,” he murmured under his breath, voice barely more than a whisper. The shadows seemed to respond to the tone, their edges sharpening, stretching longer and thinner, but still clinging to the floor. It was a delicate balance: release them too soon, and they could alert the wrong people; keep them restrained, and their hunger to act built quietly, coiling like smoke.

When Mark disappeared behind the curtains, Kelp started to do his hair. He took a few strands on either side of his head, braiding them around like a crown and pulling them into a braided bun on the back of his head, clipping it in place with a ribbon and a rose clip.

“Patience,” he said, voice flat but commanding. “You don’t act until I give the word.”

The shadows outside the dressing area rippled restlessly, stretching and curling like living ink across the floor. Thin tendrils flicked toward the door, pacing in ways almost human, their dark shapes bouncing lightly against the tiles.

“I’m aware,” Mark continued, adjusting the fit of his coat, “but we wait. The longer you push, the more obvious you become. Control, not speed.” His scarlet eyes flicked toward a small slit in the curtain, watching the subtle undulations of the shadows as they bounced and coiled. “Not yet. Soon.”

A faint sigh escaped him, though it was quieter than a breath. “If you want to move that badly, consider it a warm-up.” He straightened, pulling the last accessory into place, fully aware that the shadows were practically vibrating with impatience, eager to slip into their 3D forms and obey his commands.

Blinking slowly, almost serpentine in nature, his eyes narrowed in on the shadows writhing against the ground. He'd picked up on the way the older man spoke to his ability. It wasn't anything of interest to the elegantly dressed male, so he made no comment of it.

Mark didn’t look up right away, his gaze settling instead on the shifting shadows that had started to settle back into place at his feet. They pressed close to his boots, curling around like smoke unwilling to disperse.

“Preparation saves time later,” he replied evenly, the words stripped of irritation, almost mechanical in their simplicity. His eyes flicked upward only briefly, just enough to register Kelp’s perch and the change in his voice. Then they shifted away again, scanning the room as if it held more weight than the man balanced above him.

One of the shadows slithered outward, stretching longer across the floor as if it wanted to reach for Kelp. Mark’s hand twitched in the pocket of his coat, and the shadow halted instantly, coiling back like a reprimanded animal.

At Kelp’s question, his eyes narrowed slightly, gaze locked ahead rather than on the man’s fan-hidden face. “Couple,” he said at last, voice low and clipped. “Or partners in business. Doesn’t matter which, so long as it’s consistent.”

The shadows twitched at his words, whispering across the tiles, impatient but obedient. Mark’s hand shifted in his pocket again, quieting them with that subtle, unseen signal.

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

“New toys…” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes, though calm, followed Kelp’s movements like a shadow, noting the precision with which he inspected each item.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, voice soft but edged with quiet curiosity. “Some people need distractions to stay sharp. You seem to thrive on it.”

“Enjoyment… is a dangerous thing to feel in this line of work,” he said evenly, voice low and controlled, like stating a fact. His scarlet eyes flicked toward Kelp just long enough to meet them, then away again. “Does it ever bother you… that what you enjoy could get you killed?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to the edge of the vanity without leaning over it. “Curious minds rarely survive long when they play with death like it’s a game.”

A subtle ripple ran through the shadows, as if impatient to move faster, to strike, to perform the work they were created for. Mark didn’t speak; he only tilted his head slightly, acknowledging them with a quiet, controlled sigh.

“Patience,” he murmured under his breath, voice barely more than a whisper. The shadows seemed to respond to the tone, their edges sharpening, stretching longer and thinner, but still clinging to the floor. It was a delicate balance: release them too soon, and they could alert the wrong people; keep them restrained, and their hunger to act built quietly, coiling like smoke.

When Mark disappeared behind the curtains, Kelp started to do his hair. He took a few strands on either side of his head, braiding them around like a crown and pulling them into a braided bun on the back of his head, clipping it in place with a ribbon and a rose clip.

“Patience,” he said, voice flat but commanding. “You don’t act until I give the word.”

The shadows outside the dressing area rippled restlessly, stretching and curling like living ink across the floor. Thin tendrils flicked toward the door, pacing in ways almost human, their dark shapes bouncing lightly against the tiles.

“I’m aware,” Mark continued, adjusting the fit of his coat, “but we wait. The longer you push, the more obvious you become. Control, not speed.” His scarlet eyes flicked toward a small slit in the curtain, watching the subtle undulations of the shadows as they bounced and coiled. “Not yet. Soon.”

A faint sigh escaped him, though it was quieter than a breath. “If you want to move that badly, consider it a warm-up.” He straightened, pulling the last accessory into place, fully aware that the shadows were practically vibrating with impatience, eager to slip into their 3D forms and obey his commands.

Blinking slowly, almost serpentine in nature, his eyes narrowed in on the shadows writhing against the ground. He'd picked up on the way the older man spoke to his ability. It wasn't anything of interest to the elegantly dressed male, so he made no comment of it.

Mark didn’t look up right away, his gaze settling instead on the shifting shadows that had started to settle back into place at his feet. They pressed close to his boots, curling around like smoke unwilling to disperse.

“Preparation saves time later,” he replied evenly, the words stripped of irritation, almost mechanical in their simplicity. His eyes flicked upward only briefly, just enough to register Kelp’s perch and the change in his voice. Then they shifted away again, scanning the room as if it held more weight than the man balanced above him.

One of the shadows slithered outward, stretching longer across the floor as if it wanted to reach for Kelp. Mark’s hand twitched in the pocket of his coat, and the shadow halted instantly, coiling back like a reprimanded animal.

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

“New toys…” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes, though calm, followed Kelp’s movements like a shadow, noting the precision with which he inspected each item.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, voice soft but edged with quiet curiosity. “Some people need distractions to stay sharp. You seem to thrive on it.”

“Enjoyment… is a dangerous thing to feel in this line of work,” he said evenly, voice low and controlled, like stating a fact. His scarlet eyes flicked toward Kelp just long enough to meet them, then away again. “Does it ever bother you… that what you enjoy could get you killed?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to the edge of the vanity without leaning over it. “Curious minds rarely survive long when they play with death like it’s a game.”

A subtle ripple ran through the shadows, as if impatient to move faster, to strike, to perform the work they were created for. Mark didn’t speak; he only tilted his head slightly, acknowledging them with a quiet, controlled sigh.

“Patience,” he murmured under his breath, voice barely more than a whisper. The shadows seemed to respond to the tone, their edges sharpening, stretching longer and thinner, but still clinging to the floor. It was a delicate balance: release them too soon, and they could alert the wrong people; keep them restrained, and their hunger to act built quietly, coiling like smoke.

When Mark disappeared behind the curtains, Kelp started to do his hair. He took a few strands on either side of his head, braiding them around like a crown and pulling them into a braided bun on the back of his head, clipping it in place with a ribbon and a rose clip.

“Patience,” he said, voice flat but commanding. “You don’t act until I give the word.”

The shadows outside the dressing area rippled restlessly, stretching and curling like living ink across the floor. Thin tendrils flicked toward the door, pacing in ways almost human, their dark shapes bouncing lightly against the tiles.

“I’m aware,” Mark continued, adjusting the fit of his coat, “but we wait. The longer you push, the more obvious you become. Control, not speed.” His scarlet eyes flicked toward a small slit in the curtain, watching the subtle undulations of the shadows as they bounced and coiled. “Not yet. Soon.”

A faint sigh escaped him, though it was quieter than a breath. “If you want to move that badly, consider it a warm-up.” He straightened, pulling the last accessory into place, fully aware that the shadows were practically vibrating with impatience, eager to slip into their 3D forms and obey his commands.

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

“New toys…” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes, though calm, followed Kelp’s movements like a shadow, noting the precision with which he inspected each item.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, voice soft but edged with quiet curiosity. “Some people need distractions to stay sharp. You seem to thrive on it.”

“Enjoyment… is a dangerous thing to feel in this line of work,” he said evenly, voice low and controlled, like stating a fact. His scarlet eyes flicked toward Kelp just long enough to meet them, then away again. “Does it ever bother you… that what you enjoy could get you killed?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to the edge of the vanity without leaning over it. “Curious minds rarely survive long when they play with death like it’s a game.”

A subtle ripple ran through the shadows, as if impatient to move faster, to strike, to perform the work they were created for. Mark didn’t speak; he only tilted his head slightly, acknowledging them with a quiet, controlled sigh.

“Patience,” he murmured under his breath, voice barely more than a whisper. The shadows seemed to respond to the tone, their edges sharpening, stretching longer and thinner, but still clinging to the floor. It was a delicate balance: release them too soon, and they could alert the wrong people; keep them restrained, and their hunger to act built quietly, coiling like smoke.

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

“New toys…” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes, though calm, followed Kelp’s movements like a shadow, noting the precision with which he inspected each item.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, voice soft but edged with quiet curiosity. “Some people need distractions to stay sharp. You seem to thrive on it.”

“Enjoyment… is a dangerous thing to feel in this line of work,” he said evenly, voice low and controlled, like stating a fact. His scarlet eyes flicked toward Kelp just long enough to meet them, then away again. “Does it ever bother you… that what you enjoy could get you killed?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to the edge of the vanity without leaning over it. “Curious minds rarely survive long when they play with death like it’s a game.”

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

“New toys…” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes, though calm, followed Kelp’s movements like a shadow, noting the precision with which he inspected each item.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, voice soft but edged with quiet curiosity. “Some people need distractions to stay sharp. You seem to thrive on it.”

“Enjoyment… is a dangerous thing to feel in this line of work,” he said evenly, voice low and controlled, like stating a fact. His scarlet eyes flicked toward Kelp just long enough to meet them, then away again. “Does it ever bother you… that what you enjoy could get you killed?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to the edge of the vanity without leaning over it. “Curious minds rarely survive long when they play with death like it’s a game.”

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

“New toys…” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes, though calm, followed Kelp’s movements like a shadow, noting the precision with which he inspected each item.

He shifted slightly, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, voice soft but edged with quiet curiosity. “Some people need distractions to stay sharp. You seem to thrive on it.”

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

“You seem… entertained by your own methods,” he said evenly, tone almost conversational, though the sharpness in his words made it anything but casual. “I wonder… does it ever get boring? Or do you need new prey to feel alive?”

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

“Interesting,” he murmured, voice low and even, like stating a fact rather than judging. “A game, then.” He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering something. “Do all your... toys put up a fight, or do they fall before the first move?”

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.

“Flirting?” he repeated, tone flat, almost bored. “That could never be my style.” His scarlet eyes cut back to Kelp, sharp and deliberate. “Though you seem comfortable enough with it. Habit, or strategy?”

The shorter man sighed lowly, scarlet eyes narrowing subtly at the figure beside him. He found Mark unsettling. His gaze remained wary, gloved hands tucked into the pockets of his black shorts. "So, you got a name?" Kelp hummed suddenly, reaching up to toy with a loose strand of his white hair.

The job was to assassinate some rich guy who would be at a casino tonight, though they needed to get information on a crime ring the guy was a big investor in. They were meant to dress in disguise, and Kelp was to coax their target into a secluded area, then Mark would do his part. But they first needed to get disguises and a ride.

((Hope you don't mind me sending in this starter! I really liked your blog, and figured it'd be fun for Mark and Kelp to interact. I have some info of Kelp on my oc blog if you'd like to check out more about him! My responses are usually about a third of this starter. :3))

@ocblog0kelp

(OMG AN INTERACTION ALREADY!? HII!!!)

Mark’s shadow lingered a little too long in the dim hall as if it moved just a second slower than his body. He tilted his head toward Kelp, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Mark Griffin,” he answered simply, tone calm, unhurried. “You don’t have to remember it. Clients usually don’t.” His eyes flicked over the smaller man, noting the guarded posture, the way his hands stayed buried in his pockets. Paranoia - useful in the line of work.

"Understood. I am quite the charmer~" His platform's heels clicked gently against the tile, a repetitive tapping filling the hall. "You have the files, correct? Mind sharing his face?" Kelp tipped his head to the side slightly. That childish grin dropped, replaced by a bored line as his scarlet irises took in their surroundings.

“You play your part well,” he remarked, voice low, even. He reached into his coat and produced a folded dossier, flicking it open to reveal a photo clipped inside. The target’s smug, suited face stared up at them in glossy black-and-white. Mark held it out loosely, as though the weight of a life fit neatly between two fingers.