Ryan sat on the couch quickly, back leaned in next to the soft fabric of the sofa's leather. The low jazz music filled the air, the background was filled with the soothing hum, and the room smelled of expensive cigarettes and alcohol.
The dim red light was flickering—making dark strips on everything—everything felt calm, but his mind didn't agree with it.
He stared at the carpet for a moment, thoughts were racing faster than the music, and the background noise wasn't reaching inside of his ears.
'For God's sake, the boss of this area shouldn't be like the last guy,' he thought, fists clenched a bit, breathing out slowly through his mask, voice echoed inside of his head, tired but completely cautious. 'If he's close to that A-rank stat, then I'm definitely dying tonight. There's no fucking way I can fight an A-rank and all of these guys at the same time.'
[Don't worry, Host. Everything will be fine. Just be careful, and remember—if things go wrong, you have a crew to rely on.
