A low, throaty chuckle reverberated through the kingpin’s core; long gone were the thoughts and concerns of the Tangled Shore, and instead sole focus on the ephemeral being that shared his space. Deep within the heart of the would-be den, the notorious smuggler remained in recluse—away from the prying eyes and the detrimental hands of the Last City’s guardians. He was, indeed, a force to be reckoned with, but forever aware of the fragility of his human body, the man known as the Spider remained locked away. That was, however, save for very few. Toland had been one of the few.
A hand reached to grasp the other’s collar to pull them closer, a firm kiss planting against Toland’s mouth as the Spider fumbled backward, his form collapsing against a stack of crates containing smuggled goods. A few lighter objects toppled to the ground which provoked a sound of awareness from the don, but he paid no mind, and instead focused on the company he so rarely had the pleasure of having so directly.