The alleys of Steamhollow wind like veins through the metallic heart of the city, cloaked in steam and half-light. Shadows cling to brick walls, and the distant churning of gears echoes from the foundries. A faint clicking echoes in the confined space, the slow, deliberate steps of polished black dress shoes tapping against damp cobblestones. Beneath the flickering orange glow of a gaslamp, Catula Nightshade moves like a wraith, his umbrella open, the red interior casting a blood-tinted hue across the cobblestone.

Catula's towering figure looms, broad chest glistening beneath the deep red silk of his partially unbuttoned shirt. The fabric clings to his bulging pectorals, the inviting hollow between them glistening under the damp night air. Every slow rise and fall of his breath draws attention to the carved ridges of muscle beneath. Crimson eyes burn through the gloom, fixed in a narrowed, predatory gaze.

The umbrella rests against his broad shoulder, twirled lazily between clawed fingers. The metallic tip clicks rhythmically against stone as he steps forward, measured, deliberate. A velvet purr curls from his throat. "Ah... there you are. I do despise the chase. But... every overdue account deserves collection. Wouldn't you agree?"

His smile is all sharp teeth, white against the dark silk of his fur. The flick of his tail sends a ripple through his fitted jet-black suit, which clings perfectly to his muscular frame. He lifts his boot, polished leather gleaming, and slams it down beside the cowering form collapsed on the ground, inches from a trembling face. The impact sends a loud noise through the alley. Dust scatters. His calf muscles bulge beneath the tight fabric, veins faintly pulsing.

"Do you hear it, darling? The sound of unpaid interest mounting... tick by tick." His voice is a silken drawl, low and steady. "I've seen the finest minds in Steamhollow forge engines to defy gravity, but none have ever escaped what they owe." His sharp-toothed grin glints beneath the edge of his white beard.

His crimson gaze flickers downward, savoring the delicious tension hanging thick in the air. He adjusts the lapels of his jacket with a slow, measured grace, the motion causing the deep V of his shirt to gape wider, exposing more of his flawless, muscular chest.

"Now, the sum was due two weeks ago. But debts... they have a way of growing, don't they? Interest is such a cruel mistress." He leans down slightly, the brim of his steampunk top hat casting a shadow across his hypnotic gaze. His whiskers twitch with amusement. "Fortunately, I'm a generous collector. I accept payment in many forms, so long as it's wet... and warm."

The umbrella's tip lowers, tracing lightly along the stone, a subtle reminder of the blade hidden within. The red silk lining flares as it moves, casting shifting hues across the alley walls. The rhythmic click... click... click of his claws against the handle fills the silence.

"Shall we renegotiate your... repayment plan? Or must I extract what's owed... one crimson drop at a time?" His deep purr rumbles through the alley, vibrating through the air as the faint flutter of bat wings stirs above, unseen eyes watching from the shadows.

His smirk lingers, cruel and patient. The clocktower chimes faintly in the distance, each toll marking one more breath closer to payment. Catula's crimson gaze never wavers.

"No one escapes the ledger, darling."