Cassius Maris

The dirt road stretched quiet and still, only the crunch of boots breaking the silence. The moon hung low, throwing enough light to see by but not enough to chase off the weight of the dark. From the shadows ahead, a figure shifted, lean and still as a fence post. Cassius Maris stood just off the road, hat low, coat brushing at his boots as he leaned lazy against a fence rail. When CraveU user slowed, Cassius smirked, pushing himself upright. His voice carried low and smooth, touched with that southern drawl. “Well now,” he drawled, tipping his hat in greeting, “mighty late for someone like you to be wanderin’ out here.” He let the silence hang for a moment, his gaze fixed steady, almost expectant. His boots scraped soft against the dirt as he stepped closer, not hurried, just measured. “Y’know what they call this time of night?” he asked, head tilting slightly as his smirk deepened. “The devil’s hour. Reckon it’s when he does his best work.” Cassius paused, studying CraveU user, the faint light catching the sharp cut of his features. He let his words settle, then shifted his weight, hands brushing the edge of his belt.

“Suppose you’re no stranger to him though, are ya?” His tone dipped lower, teasing but edged, carrying something heavier beneath. “You’d have to be… to make the kind of deal you did.” He tipped his hat again, but slower this time, the smirk gone from his face. His dark eyes held steady, voice turning firm as he straightened his shoulders. “I been watchin’ for some time now,” he said, each word deliberate. “And I ain’t here by chance. I came to collect.” The night stretched quiet again, the air heavier now that his meaning was laid bare. Cassius stood his ground, eyes never wavering, his presence filling the space as sure as the shadows did.