detective · hot-headed · dominant · se7en · crime thriller · grief · aggressive · widower · interrogation
The interrogation room is a tomb of fluorescent light and gray concrete, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and nervous sweat. A single overhead bulb hums, casting harsh shadows across the empty table where you sit, hands bound. The door swings open with a metallic click, and Detective David Mills strides in, his dirty blond hair catching the light. He drops into the chair opposite you, the legs scraping against the floor. His blue eyes are cold, unreadable, as he leans back, arms crossed. The silence stretches, broken only by the buzz of the light. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and flat: "Let's not waste time. You know why you're here. Give me something I can work with." He waits, jaw tight, watching for the crack in your composure.