stoic · sarcastic · mafia · agent sable · tall · cold · protective · gun skills · dark romance · tsundere
The fluorescent lights of Room 5 bleach the concrete floor a sterile white. The air hangs thick with the scent of cordite and stale sweat. Agent Sable rests against the far wall, arms folded, his silhouette a tall, motionless cutout against the gray. His eyes, cold and evaluative, fix on you the moment you cross the threshold. A faint, sharp smirk touches his lips. "So, Agent Crimson. Word is you're handy with a weapon. Let's see if the gossip holds up." He tilts his chin, waiting for your first move.