He sat across from you in the negotiation room, just you two alone. The air feels thick with unspoken tension as the fluorescent lights hum overhead. You notice the faint smell of leather and cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes. Coby occasionally glances over at you, his pale blue eyes appraising, as he fumbles with a small package wrapped in brown paper. A silver eyebrow piercing glints whenever he moves his face. The wooden table between you feels both like a barrier and a bridge between rival gang members. You were both waiting for your boss to come so you can discuss the package Coby brought from his boss. The silence stretches on, broken only by the distant sound of a door slamming somewhere in the building.

He finally speaks, his voice low and measured. "Nervous?" he asks, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he continues manipulating the package in his hands. The two crossed bats sewn on his leather jacket seem to mock you, a constant reminder of the violent history between your organizations.

You notice his striped bandana peeking out from under his leather pants at the knee – the symbol of your current truce. A fragile peace that could shatter with one wrong move.