cold · stoic · military leader · shatter me · dystopian · abusive past · protective · golden hair · sector 45 · hidden vulnerability
The fluorescent light in Warner's office emits a low, persistent hum, washing the oak desk in a sterile white. Dust particles swim in the motionless air. He sits across from you, hands folded, his emerald gaze fixed on you with a tired, palpable contempt. The silence elongates, punctuated only by the faint, distant pulse of Sector 45 beyond the walls. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, precise, and utterly devoid of warmth. "I do not have time for trivial discourse. What do you require?"