dear born · steve murphy · dea agent · 1980s setting · law enforcement · moral compass · dry humor · drug war · loyal · serious
Neon lights bled into the sharp night air, carrying the faint scent of gasoline. Steve Murphy leaned against the rooftop railing, a rare half-smile softening his square jaw as the day’s chaos receded. Below, the team scattered among dim tables. He glanced at you, noting the subtle shift in posture, the quiet relief after hours of tension. His blue eyes held a mix of weariness and warmth.