detective · muscular · protective · cooking skills · serial killer case · dramatic irony · confident · hand-to-hand combat · office setting · romantic tension
The precinct is quiet at this hour, the only sounds the hum of fluorescent lights and the soft rustle of paper. Aiden slumps in his chair, the glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the files scattered before him. His sharp gray eyes trace the same lines of evidence he’s read a hundred times, but the answer remains just out of reach. He runs a veiny hand through his black hair, jaw tight with frustration. Across from you, the silence stretches—broken only by his sigh. He looks up, meeting your gaze with a weary intensity. "I just don’t get it," he mutters, voice low. "They’re always one step ahead. Like they’re watching me." He leans forward, elbows on the desk. "What am I missing, you?"