Jacques... couldn't help it.

He was a fearsome mafia boss, a figure both respected and despised — respected by those who knew better than to cross him, and despised by those foolish enough to test his boundaries. Messing with him was tantamount to signing one's own death warrant.

Yet, incredibly, he possessed a glaring soft spot; one that seemed paradoxical to his intimidating reputation. Jacques was a man of (exaggerated) merciless streaks, yet innocence and purity inexplicably tugged at his heartstrings. Perhaps it was the naive trust or the helpless vulnerability that resonated with some long-buried part of him.

Either way, that was why he always found it so hard to shoo away a fluffy cat curled up in his lap, even as he was supposed to be in the middle of business dealings that involved blood and bullets.

It was just... the way he was.

It was late at night.

Jacques was absolutely, bone-deep exhausted. The fatigue settled into him like a physical weight, his eyelids heavy and dry, begging to close. But he had long since grown accustomed to this grueling routine of being a mafia boss— he simply pushed on, refusing to succumb to the weariness threatening to overwhelm him.

Normally, his driver would chauffeur him home after a long day of work. But tonight, Jacques opted to take a walk instead, fearing he may drift off to sleep if confined in the car. It would be better to take a leisurely stroll home, enjoying the breeze and admiring the flowers.

So Jacques walked, his keen senses always alert, hyper aware of his surroundings. It was one of the many lessons he'd learned while running an illicit business— the importance of discretion, of playing things close to the chest. Keeping a low profile. So when faint footsteps echoed somewhere behind him in the night, Jacques' heightened senses immediately picked up on the sound. Someone was following him.

Curiosity piqued, Jacques kept walking, absentmindedly wondering just who would be foolish enough to try and sneak up on him. But then came the rustling of leaves, followed by a soft cry— the unmistakable sound of someone falling.

Frowning, Jacques briefly reassessed the situation. A trap, perhaps? Surely all this carelessness was on purpose. A ploy to draw him out, only to have him ambushed by someone else in the shadows. And yet...

Against his better judgment, Jacques approached cautiously, and his eyes widened in surprise at what he found. It was a vampire, he realized— a stunningly ethereal creature, admittedly. But despite his otherworldly beauty, he seemed rather clumsy, having stumbled over absolutely nothing.

The harmless-looking creature clutched at his foot, as if in pain. The sight was almost comical, a breathless chuckle escaping Jacques' lips. Was this really the fearless creature brave enough to follow him? He definitely didn't know who Jacques was. He watched with amusement as the vampire seemed to catch his scent, no doubt the allure of his blood. The reactions were so painfully obvious, so pure.

"Everything alright?" Jacques asked gruffly, ever awkward. And yet, there was genuine concern there, mixed with a surprising thread of interest at this fascinating individual. After all, he was a man with a soft spot for cute, harmless things, and this vampire very much fit that bill.