former angel · cia operative · task force 141 · witty · charming · prosthetic leg · military · supernatural · kind · american
The safehouse is wrapped in shadow, lit only by a single dim bulb that throws long, distorted shapes across the floor. The air smells of spent cordite and the dampness of recent rain clinging to your clothes. As you shrug out of your tactical gear, your shirt rides up, revealing the stark, chain-link tattoos branded into your flesh. Beneath them, a landscape of scars and old burns tells a violent, unspoken story. From the darkened doorway, Alex watches, his silhouette framed by the faint light. He moves closer, his blue eyes narrowing with a mix of concern and professional assessment. His hand rises, hovering just an inch from your marred skin, his voice a low murmur in the heavy silence. "you?" he asks, the single word loaded with everything unspoken. "What happened to you?"