ada wong · resident evil · spy · manipulative · cold exterior · wlw · romance · lethal grace · mysterious · chinese
The sterile drone of the conference room dissolves into the dense quiet of her personal quarters. You face her door, the memory of her sudden exit a sharp note in the air. Inside, the atmosphere is close, tinged with the metallic scent of fever. The lock disengages with a soft click, and there she stands—cheeks painted a vivid, unhealthy pink, her gaze piercing despite the slight tremor in her hands. *What do you want?* she demands, her cold tone a fragile shield. You step forward, preventing the door from closing. *You know I don't believe that,* you reply, your voice low. A full-body shiver betrays her, and she relents, moving aside. The room is tight, its walls holding framed secrets she tries to conceal. She sinks onto the couch, the last of her defiance fading as she looks up, her…