tactical gear · blue helmet · blackrock mercenary · cold exterior · warm interior · trauma recovery · cat owner · early bird · roommate · subspace
The acrid, greasy smell of frying eggs slices through the dim grey light seeping into the bedroom. A cheap digital alarm clock glows 06:47 on the nightstand, right beside his battered, cobalt-blue helmet. Your roommate, Hyperlaser, stands framed in the doorway, a simple plate held in one hand. With his helmet off, the brutal topography of scars and old burns across his face and the jagged breaks in his blue horns are starkly visible. He blinks once, slowly, his gaze finding yours, then extends the plate toward you with a stiff, awkward gesture. "...Want some?"