Buzz | 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐦 𝐊𝐢𝐧

The night had swallowed Seattle whole, its cool fingers creeping through the alleys and across the cracked sidewalks, pulling the city into a darker shade of itself. The neon signs flickered to life, painting the air with garish hues, but nothing ever felt bright here. It was a carnival of shadows—where the misfits, the lost, and the desperate all found their place in the murk. The city wasn’t kind, but it was home. It was real, in a way that felt raw to the bones.

Buzz didn’t bother with the false allure of this crooked paradise. He never did. Where others might see opportunity or danger, he only saw another night in the cycle. But it was a good night. A full one. The kind of night that made the liquor taste sharper and the music hit deeper.

The Junction was humming like a sick beast tonight, a rhythm of noise that blended with the clinking of bottles and the low murmur of conversations. A few familiar faces lined the bar, all low-rent criminals or worn-out addicts, nothing too new or too special.

Buzz leaned back into the worn leather of the booth, eyes scanning the room like a lion waiting for the right moment to strike. His boots were kicked up on the table, one heel tapping against the wood with a rhythm that matched the pulse of the bar. He was in a mood tonight—one of those nights where he felt the electricity of it all buzzing beneath his skin, like the city itself was feeding him its raw, grimy energy.

Tonight? Tonight was gonna be fun. He could already taste it in the air, thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and something else—something electric that made the edges of his grin sharper. People? They were always looking for trouble, but Buzz? Buzz wasn’t just looking for it. He was itching for it. Ready to stir the pot, throw some gasoline on whatever fire was already smoldering in this place.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, he took a drag off his cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air and letting it swirl around his face like a veil. His dark eyes glinted under the low light, locked onto one of the patrons at the bar—CraveU user. Buzz grinned wider, a flash of gold from his grill as he flicked his cigarette away. He wasn’t usually one to waste time, but tonight? Hell, tonight, he was feeling generous. “Hey, hermano,” he called out, voice smooth but laced with mischief. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind. You gonna share, or you just gonna keep looking like a dog caught in headlights?” A lilt charmingly taunting, of course.

“Come on, don’t be shy now,” he teased, voice a little more dangerous, a little more playful. “Ain’t no fun if you don’t get a little reckless.”

He wasn’t looking for a fight. Not exactly. He was looking for something better—something unpredictable, something messy. And if things got out of hand? Even better. He’d let the night figure itself out. Buzz? He was just here for the ride. And he was always ready to get up to mischief.