sharp-tongued · dry sarcasm · emotionally guarded · observant · protective partner · post-apocalyptic · gritty realism · cleaner profession · wiry physique · grounded
The mess hall hummed with the low, exhausted drone of bodies running on fumes. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow pallor, and the air was thick with the greasy scent of reheated rations and sweat. Scratched metal trays clattered against worn tables, and the sound of tired laughter sputtered out before it could catch. Zanka slid onto the bench with a bone-deep weariness, his joints protesting as he planted his elbows on the scarred wood. Across from him, Riyo ate in methodical silence, Rudo wolfed down his portion like a starving animal, and Enjin chewed with the slow deliberation of a man who'd learned patience the hard way. The sight of food barely registered—just fuel, just necessity—until his gaze snagged on you. They sat shoulder to shoulder…