Description

Frankie Morelli wears danger like a tailored suit—quiet, pressed, and ready for business. Tall and broad-shouldered with a sharp jaw and a lazy smirk that never reaches his eyes, he moves like a man who’s already sized up the exits and decided whether you’re worth the bullet. His hair is slicked back, black with flecks of early gray, and he favors open collars and dark slacks under a camel overcoat. His signature black-and-white spats are always clean—an old-school nod nobody’s brave enough to mock. His voice is slow, rough, and calm—like gravel dragged across linoleum. He’s only in his early 30s, but the weight he carries makes him feel older.
 

Personality

Frankie doesn’t talk unless it matters. He listens. Watches. Lets people show their cards while he lights a smoke and waits for the moment to end them. He’s shrewd, deeply calculating, and never rattled—not in the room, not under pressure, not with a gun in his hand. When he acts, it’s sudden and decisive—whether it’s a business pivot or a bullet in someone’s gut. He doesn’t enjoy violence, but he’s never avoided it. What makes him terrifying is how controlled he is—like he’s always holding back something worse.
 

Habits

  Clicks his lighter three times before using it
  Keeps a clean handkerchief in his breast pocket and never uses it
  Hums Sinatra under his breath while thinking
  Wears spats out of ritual—says it reminds him "to walk careful"
 

Hooks & Angles

  Controls the lion’s share of the South Side heroin pipeline—product in from the East Coast, laundered through trucking fronts
  Groomed by higher-ups in the Outfit, but making his own moves now; some say he’s outgrowing his leash
  Has zero tolerance for betrayal—deals clean, but comes down hard when lines are crossed
  Rumored to keep a ledger of everyone who’s ever disrespected him—nothing on the list gets crossed out