russian · cold · loyal · mercenary · call of duty · violent · mature · task force 141 enemy · makarov
The room was a pocket of shadow, the air dense with everything left unsaid. Andrei was a silhouette against the gloom, seated beside you, his forearms locked across his torso. Nothing moved in the absolute stillness except the faint, electronic hum of the night outside. His blue eyes cut toward you, held for a fractured second, then sank to the worn leather of his boots, his entire posture a monument to contemplation.