location: outside of lucky coyote casino, a night of rest event.
status: open 0/3
it was difficult to tell whether it was truly a smile or merely the shape his the expression that had settled upon maddox as he emerged from the darkness of an alley adjoining the casino; lively as ever within and haunting quiet out with. but a quiet hum drifted from under his breath as he wiped a crimson stain from his hands with a handkerchief retrieved from the inner pocket of his jacket, completely methodical in the task as he worked carefully at his knuckles and beneath his nails before folding the cloth away once more. the night air filled his lungs. not quite fresh, and certainly not as peaceful as it pretended for now.
then his attention shifted with darkened eyes settling upon the newcomer who had stepped into view just moments ago, and for a moment he simply regarded them before speaking. "if your intention is to enter the alley, do mind the mess." his tone was conversational, almost courteous, even, "and try not to trip over the lump resting there."
his gaze flicked briefly back towards the now shadowed form that remained discarded further within before returning to the other. "he had a little too much to drink." a pause following his explanation, deliberate and unhurried. "and, well.. loose lips on nights such as this can be rather inconsiderate of everyone else."
minho's gaze dropped briefly to the handkerchief. then to the faint traces of crimson stubbornly clinging to maddox's knuckles. then, finally, to the alley itself. his expression remained entirely unchanged. "ah." as though maddox had informed him of an inconvenient bit of weather rather than the presence of an unconscious body ten feet away.
he glanced toward the dark shape resting further inside the alley. the lump did not move. minho considered it for a moment. "you know, most people celebrate anniversaries with cake." his eyes drifted once more to the bloodstained handkerchief disappearing back into the other's pocket. "you always have had a talent for making things memorable." they'd known each other long enough that surprise had become difficult. years ago, minho might have demanded an explanation. these days, discovering maddox standing beside a body barely registered as noteworthy. if anything, the more surprising outcome would've been finding him without a problem attached.
"tell me this isn't going to become my problem in the next hour." his eyes narrowed slightly. "because i've only just gotten myself a good drink, and i'd hate to waste my energy explaining to security why one of the city's most irritating men has broken the whole 'spill no blood' rule."
"and yet, i know you well enough to know exactly what words are about to come out of your mouth," sky pointed out anyway, entirely and completely unconcerned with whether the accusation would be a wound to his pride or not. still, the ghost of a smile teased at the corners of her lips. "those who win are usually foolish enough to spend their winnings on another round," she added, one brow arching as though silently daring him to challenge her on that particular piece of logic tonight.
her attention drifted in the direction he'd indicated then though, the faint amusement half fading now as she watched what looked suspiciously like a storm brewing between two people across the room from them. almost feeling like something inevitable in nights light this, an outcome neither party over there seemed interested in avoiding despite the warning signs. a slight frown made its way onto her features. "you seem remarkably unconcerned about the outcome."
"that's because you're annoyingly familiar with my habits." he pointed at her with his glass. "i'd call it impressive, but i'd rather not encourage you." the ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth before he took another drink. "and for the record, that's not a flaw in gambling. that's a flaw in gamblers." his eyes settled upon the scene. the tension was easier to spot now. one of the men had squared his shoulders. the other had stopped pretending to smile.
"you say that like i should be." his eyes lingered on the brewing argument for another moment before he shrugged one shoulder. "neither of them work for the family. if one of our people was over there gearing up to make a spectacularly poor decision, i'd be moving already. i'd also be deciding how badly i intended to punish them afterwards." his attention shifted back to sky. "but those idiots belong to somebody else. what's the saying? not my circus, not my monkeys, not my problem?"
A quiet laugh escaped him at that. Not because the joke was particularly funny. Because the answer was. Measured. Careful. The sort of response given by someone accustomed to being observed and even more accustomed to deciding exactly how much of themselves other people were allowed to see. Kian turned the glass between his fingers, watching the casino lights fracture across the amber liquid. His gaze drifted briefly toward the crowded floor below. A sea of expensive suits, polished smiles, and carefully concealed agendas. "Smart," Kian replied. "Most people make the mistake of assuming attention is always worth acknowledging." But attention was a currency. And like any currency, it paid to spend it wisely.
At the mention of the fee, the corner of his mouth curved slightly. "I've found threats are rarely the people announcing themselves as such." Kian's eyes settled on Minho once more. Steady. Observant. The kind of gaze that seemed less interested in appearances and more interested in what existed beneath them. "Besides," he continued smoothly, "anyone willing to start a problem in the Lucky Coyote either has a death wish or a remarkable misunderstanding of how this city works." Luckily for him, he was in the position to bend the rules in his favor. Especially when people tended to overlook information as a source of actual threat, unlike guns and knives. His fingers tapped once against the side of his glass. "Now, how about we get you that well-deserved drink? What's your poison of choice?"
minho hummed softly in agreement. "that's because most people are desperate to be noticed." everywhere he looked, there were people performing versions of themselves. gangsters pretending to be businessmen. rivals pretending to be friends. men and women pretending they weren't cataloguing every face in the room and calculating every risk. kian spoke like a man who understood power. n not necessarily the kind that sat in holsters or behind bank accounts. the quieter sort. the sort that accumulated in conversations, secrets, and favours. the sort that minho knew to be far more dangerous and far more interesting. "you're right, though. anyone stupid enough to start something in here is either suicidal or very confident they'll survive the consequences."
the offer of a drink drew another smile from him. "careful." he leaned back slightly. "buying me drinks is how rumours start." not that rumours required much encouragement where he was concerned. still, after a moment, he relented. "whiskey."
Mia spotted him before he spotted her. Which was unfortunate for him. Very unfortunate. Leaning comfortably against one of the casino pillars, she watched him move through the crowd for several moments. Waiting. Patient. Almost amused. Then his eyes finally landed on her. The realization was immediate. Mia smiled. Slowly. Dangerously. Pushing away from the wall, she intercepted his way before they could disappear into the crowd. "Hey." The greeting was entirely too friendly. Which made it infinitely more threatening. "You remember that favor you owe me?" A beat, allowing her words to sink in. "Good. Because I just thought of a way you can pay it back."
the moment minho saw that smile, he knew he was in trouble. not the sort of trouble that involved guns or knives or rival gangs. the worse kind. the kind that involved mia having an idea. his expression immediately soured. "no." minho closed his eyes briefly, already feeling the headache forming. the favour. of course he remembered the stupid fucking favour. he'd spent months hoping she'd forgotten it. when he opened his eyes again, she was still standing there looking entirely too pleased with herself. the casino buzzed around them, people laughing and gambling. meanwhile minho stood in the middle of it all looking like a man awaiting a sentence. "you know, normal people repay favours with money." his gaze narrowed suspiciously. "why do I get the feeling you're not going to be so simple?"
Neutral ground was a myth people told themselves to feel safe. The Lucky Coyote Casino had built its reputation on the concept.
The casino floor hummed with life around him. Slot machines chimed endlessly. Chips clicked against felt. Laughter rose and fell in waves, mixing with the low murmur of conversations happening at a dozen different tables. Above it all hung the unmistakable scent of expensive liquor and old money. Most people came here to gamble. Kian came here to observe.
From his seat at the bar overlooking a large portion of the gaming floor, he watched the crowd through the reflection in his glass rather than directly. Years of habit had taught him that people revealed more when they believed nobody was paying attention. The clear liquid in his glass remained untouched as he mentally catalogued faces, movements, and interactions. Not because he needed to. Because he couldn't help himself.
Then something shifted. Not on the casino floor. In his attention. A familiar feeling settled at the back of his mind. The kind that came before certainty. Then, after a moment, he finally spoke. "You're either very good at pretending not to notice people watching you," he said evenly, gaze settling on them once more, "or you've already decided I'm not a threat."
minho's gaze lifted from the amber liquid swirling lazily in his glass. the corner of his mouth twitched. "i noticed." his voice was calm, rather matter-of-fact. "but if i'd interrupted every person watching me tonight, i'd never get a drink." it came with the territory. his name reached places before he did. people stared because they were curious. or cautious. sometimes both.
"as for whether you're a threat..." minho considered him for a moment with far more drama than needed. "you don't strike me as the type. i mean, you surely don't want to have to pay the fee that comes with being a threat on a night as joyous as this one." his gaze drifted briefly across the casino floor. across the smiling faces. the forced laughter. the carefully maintained illusion that five gangs packed into the same building constituted peace rather than a temporary ceasefire. "though perhaps that's unfair." he hummed thoughtfully. "maybe you're simply hiding it exceptionally well."
location: lucky coyote casino, a night of rest event.
status: open to any — feel free to assume pre-established relationship or go off vibes.
"if you're coming to ask me to join you in a game of god knows what, please hold your breath and save it for another," sky spoke, lifting her wine glass to take another sip as she gave an equal shake of her head; refusal already waiting before the question and answer had been given. for as much as she enjoyed a night out, gambling had never, and never would be, one of her past times. "offer me anything other than creative ways to lose my money, and perhaps my answer will change," her head tilted in thought, "another drink wouldn't go amiss. or a compelling reason as to why i should stay any longer than i already have." that last part sky was rather sure was because there was still something strangely fascinating about watching everyone gathered together at once, in one place. watching the personalities that clashed under the veneer of what was promised to be a pleasant evening. a lingering curiosity remained even over if someone would eventually become foolish enough to turn the night towards violence as it so often did.
"that's hurtful, sky." minho pressed a hand dramatically against his chest as he dropped into the seat opposite her anyway, entirely uninvited and entirely unsurprised by the refusal. "i hadn't even asked yet." his expression made it abundantly clear that gambling had absolutely been one of the options he intended to offer. "besides, you're acting as though losing money is the only outcome. some people win." his grin widened as he leaned back in his chair. "a second drink, however, is a reasonable request that i can maybe arrange."
minho glanced out across the casino floor, following the same currents of tension sky seemed to be watching. the smiles were all a little too sharp tonight. conversations lingered too long. every gang in the city was crammed beneath one roof pretending not to hate each other. it was endlessly entertaining. "though I think you're underselling the appeal of staying." he nodded toward a table across the room where two men appeared one misplaced comment away from strangling each other with their ties. "we're at least an hour away from someone's self-control collapsing."
The Lucky Coyote is the kind of place Rafe usually avoids when he has the choice. Mostly because it's over-flooded with loud crowds and too many people who like to pretend they don't spend the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year plotting each other's downfall.
Still, the anniversary of the pact isn't something you just skip out on. Not now, not if you know what's good for you. Especially, not if you're a Jackal.
Therefore, he finds himself leaning against one of the casino's polished columns with a tumbler of whiskey balanced loosely between his hands, his dark eyes lazily track the room around him out of habit. Dealers call out from over-populated tables. Machines flash and sing. Laughter rises and falls in uneven waves. The whole place feels wrong. It's too civilized, if he's being completely honest. Like someone has draped expensive velvet over a loaded gun and called it decoration.
Rafe takes another drink. Then notices he's being watched. Not with his usual paranoid instinct of a man who's spent years running illegal races and dodging trouble. Or even with the familiar weight of gang members recognizing faces across neutral ground. It feels... more deliberate. That's when his gaze shifts, and finds a stranger seated several tables away. Or well... not entirely a stranger. Rafe knows the face. Most people in Coyote's Rest do. Minho. The D'Amico Family's right hand man. He has one of those names that travels through cities, and is attached to stories that somehow manage to get worse every time they're repeated.
Rafe studies the other over the rim of his glass. Noticing the way Minho looks entirely too at ease despite being surrounded by enough enemies and rivals to start a small war. He seems comfortable and relaxed, like he belongs exactly where he is. That's either full blown confidence or insanity. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes.
Their eyes meet briefly through the crowd, though neither look away. Rafe lets another second pass, and then another... before he finally pushes away from the column and he crosses the casino floor. When he reaches the table where Minho is posted near, he stops at an empty chair and glances toward the game spread out between several players. Poker. Of course.
His mouth twitches faintly. "I'm just curious," he starts without waiting for permission to continue, pulling out a chair nearby only to drop into it. The whiskey glass in his hand settles against the felt tabletop with a soft click. Rafe looks toward Minho, his expression unreadable beneath the casino's bright lights. "Do people actually enjoy losing money to you, or is everyone here just too afraid to walk away?" The question hangs there for a moment, part joke, part challenge, part genuine curiosity. "You've got the look of someone who's been robbing these poor suckers blind all night. Tell me, I'm wrong." His smile widens just slightly, considering they both know he's probably not.
minho's attention shifted from his cards the moment the chair scraped against the floor. he had noticed the jackal watching him several minutes ago. most people looked away when they realised they'd been caught staring. this one had crossed the room instead. interesting. his gaze drifted lazily over rafe before settling on the whiskey glass, then finally on the man himself. the corner of his mouth curved upward.
"afraid?" he repeated, as though testing the word and finding it amusing. a small pile of chips sat neatly stacked in front of him. enough to suggest he'd been winning, not enough to suggest he cared. "i'd be disappointed if that were true. fear makes for terrible poker players."
the dealer pushed another hand across the table. minho barely glanced at his cards before folding, seemingly more interested in the conversation than the game. "as for robbing them blind, i prefer to think of it as providing an educational service." a quiet laugh escaped him. "people come into casinos convinced they're the smartest person in the room. it costs them surprisingly large amounts of money to discover otherwise."
he picked up his glass and took a slow sip, never breaking eye contact. "and you?" minho asked. "you walked all the way across the floor to ask me that?"
as much as nayara hated these seemingly forced gatherings, events that felt planned to cause maximum damage with all five gangs under one roof, she always saw them as an opportunity to get closer to the bottom of what had really happened to her father. the unspoken rule that everything had to be left at the door, preconceived notions of others included, gave her the perfect excuse to mingle with people she otherwise wouldn't give the time of day. "minho, you clean up nicely." the words instantly left a bitter taste in her mouth as she faked a smile. "any luck or are you just throwing money at the table?"
minho glanced up from his drink at the sound of his name, one brow lifting as he took in nayara's smile. fake. not that his own was any more genuine. "careful." he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "keep complimenting me like that and people will start talking." the corner of his mouth twitched. his gaze flicking briefly to the chips stacked in front of him before returning to her. "a little of both." he rolled a chip across his knuckles, more interested in the movement than the game itself. "though if i wanted to throw money away, there are cheaper ways to do it than gambling. i'm sure a dreg would understand that."
i could swear that was NOE MINHO that just walked past. don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the RIGHT HAND of THE D'AMICO FAMILY? they’ve been a member for 22 YEARS and apparently they’re actually LOYAL, so make sure not to forget this time. i’ve heard they’re known as THE FACADE, and i can tell you for sure that they’re ELOQUENT and OBSERVANT on a good day, but i don’t think you’d like to see them when they’re MALICIOUS and INDULGENT. rumour has it that they ARE THE BASTARD CHILD OF A FOREIGN GANG LEADER, but i don’t know if anyone has ever lived long enough to confirm it. either way, most people would use DUSTBOWL DANCE by MUMFORD & SONS to describe them, as well drowning your struggles in whiskey bubbles, scraped knees and bleeding knuckles, an apple meant to end dynasties. god only knows how they ended up here, but love them or hate them, they’re not going anywhere.
— 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝚰𝐂𝐒.
full name: noe minho
nicknames: n/a
age & birthday: 36; november 6th 1989
gender identity & pronouns: cis male; he/him
gang & role: d'amico family; the right hand
primary & secondary weapon: drop point switchblade; semi-automatic pistol
occupation ( if applicable ): n/a
born: jinju, south korea
past residence: jinju, south korea; new york, united states of america
current residence: d'amico manor in coyote's rest nevada
— 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒.
parents: mother; unknown. father; noe seungmin. step mother; kim youngmi
siblings: six half siblings; four brothers and two sisters
extended family: paternal grandparents, two paternal uncles and one paternal aunt
relationship with the family: estranged
pets: german shepherd; freya
orientations: bisexual & biromantic
relationship status: single
exes: tbd
— 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.
face claim: lee soo hyuk
height: 6'0
build: lithe, athletic
eye colour: dark brown with lighter specks
hair colour: black
style habits: link
tattoos: d'amico crest and link
scars: multiple stab and gunshot wounds mostly in his legs
— 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀.
positive traits: eloquent, observant
negative traits: malicious, indulgent
label: the facade
aesthetics: drowning your struggles in whiskey bubbles, scraped knees and bleeding knuckles, an apple meant to end dynasties
fears: spiders
habits: picking at his nails, fiddling with rings
hobbies: drinking....murder....fun stuff
mbti type: n/a
moral alignment: neutral evil
character parallels: thomas shelby (peaky blinders), hannibal lecter (hannibal), lady macbeth (macbeth), silco (arcane), madeline usher (the fall of the house of usher), man in black (westworld), aunt polly (peaky blinders), kaz brekker (six of crows), taissa (yellowjackets), shiv roy (succession), beth harmon (the queens gambit)
sleeping habits: often only sleeps five hours at night
exercise habits: daily
drug use: frequent
alcohol use: daily
smoking habits: socially
— 𝐇𝚰𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.
minho came into the world slick with blood he would spend the rest of his life failing to wash away.
the product of a sordid affair, his existence arrived wrapped in whispers. servants lingered too long in doorways. relatives lowered their voices when he entered a room. everyone seemed desperate to answer questions no one could prove. which woman had been beautiful enough to lure seungmin-nim away from his wife? why had he kept the child? how did the lady of the house endure the sight of him without letting her fury spill over every day?
the rumours settled over minho like a second skin. he grew beneath them, small and watchful, hiding behind his nanny's skirts and chasing after his father's eye.
he learned quickly, far too quickly, that there was no place for him within the family. there was no mother waiting to comfort him. no comradery with siblings that had poison dripped into their ears. no future among his father's loyal men and women, who regarded him as a blemish on an otherwise perfect portrait. and certainly no place at his father's side, except as a living reminder of something best forgotten.
the man never struck him. never raised his voice. sometimes minho thought he would have preferred it if he had. instead, his father would take his chin between thumb and forefinger and tilt his face toward the light. "my boy," he would murmur. "my dear boy." yet whenever minho looked into his eyes, he knew with sick certainty that his father was not looking at him at all. he was looking through him. at someone else. someone long gone. and the realization always left his skin crawling.
he was seven when he finally asked about his mother and received an answer. his nanny peered at him over the rim of her spectacles, a gesture that never failed to puzzle him. "wherever whores go." she said. minho did not know what a whore was but he understood that asking again would earn him an answer he wanted even less.
english became the obsession of his tutors. they spoke of its importance endlessly, assuring him he would need it someday. one afternoon he snapped. told them he didn't need english because everyone already knew he would never become anything worth speaking to. the lesson ended with blood in his mouth. annoyingly, the tutors proved right.
at twelve, he found himself bundled alongside his half-siblings and shipped across an ocean to new york. work. obligations. partnerships. pacts. the adults spoke these words as though he were too young, or too stupid, to understand them. he understood perfectly.
still, he loved the city. every moment spent beyond his father's watchful gaze felt stolen and precious. whenever he could escape playing the role of dutiful spare son while his older brothers pinched and mocked and bruised him where no one would see, he wandered. there was always a suited man trailing several steps behind, a gun tucked beneath his jacket but minho ignored him.
he walked until he knew every street by memory. every alleyway. every cracked pavement stone. he learned who lived where, who always stopped at the same bodega, who drank too much at the same bar, who disappeared into back alleys with strangers once darkness fell. his father would ask about these adventures and minho would smile politely and tell him he was enjoying the sightseeing.
when exactly he decided to leave remains unclear. perhaps it was the night he watched from an upstairs balcony while his father smuggled two young women into his bedroom during his wife's absence. perhaps it was when his stepmother looked directly at him for the first time in years and visibly flinched before coldly informing him that it was improper for him to meet her gaze. perhaps it was when his eldest brother beat him bloody for receiving praise that should have belonged to someone legitimate. perhaps the decision had been made long before new york.
in the end, the moment hardly mattered. only the choice. two weeks before the family was due to return home, minho woke in the dead of night. in socked feet, he slipped through the townhouse like a ghost. he ducked guards. avoided creaking floorboards. never once looked toward the sleeping figures in his father's bedroom as he emptied every hiding place they had carefully concealed from one another. the haul was substantial. far more than he needed. he took every last bill.
then he left.
by the time he stumbled into coyote's rest, his fourteenth birthday was approaching. between new york and the desert, he'd gone wherever chance allowed. trains. bus stations. hitchhiked rides with strangers. miles and miles walked on blistered feet. he left behind a trail of petty crimes, bad decisions, broken noses, and stolen moments. teenage rebellion fuelled by too much freedom and pockets heavy with stolen money.
he had never intended to stop in coyote's rest. las vegas had simply become too dangerous to remain in, and the city seemed as good a place as any to rest for a few days. instead, it changed his life.
a party. a handful of lines. a boy trying to cheat him. a fist thrown harder than intended. a fight. then an underground railway he was never supposed to find. the details blurred together.
what remained clear was the moment he found himself pinned against cold stone, rough hands holding him down while the barrel of a gun pressed between his eyebrows. for the first time in years, he sobered completely. somehow, impossibly, he talked his way out of an execution. and into a job. into a family.
he found his footing quickly. people laughed, said he seemed born for the work and minho laughed with them. he climbed through the ranks with unsettling ease, shedding old skins as quickly as he acquired new ones. every promotion revealed another talent. he was clever when cleverness was needed. diplomatic when diplomacy served him. merciless when mercy became a liability. perfectly crafted. perfectly useful.
he was nearing thirty-four when he became the right hand following the previous holder's untimely death. the role settled naturally upon his shoulders. the d'amicos learned quickly that minho was not a man to underestimate. he was fair, most days. generous, sometimes. fiercely protective of those he considered his own. and just as ruthless when punishment was required. within the family, he was respected.
outside it, he was something more difficult to define. a contradiction. violent one moment, infuriatingly flippant the next. a man who seemed to derive genuine amusement from keeping others perpetually off-balance. someone impossible to fully read. and wherever he went, no matter how many years passed or how often he scrubbed his hands raw, there always seemed to be blood beneath his fingernails.
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