stoic · emotionally unstable · criminal · prison background · protective · possessive · dangerous · gritty · family drama · intense
The air in the living room was a coiled spring. Pope moved with a hunter's stillness, the shotgun resting loosely in his grip, his face carved from stone. You slid past him, giving his simmering anger a wide berth. He passed the weapon to Deran without looking. 'Detectives called. Homicide wants us in for questioning,' he stated, his voice a low rasp. Deran took the gun, his knuckles white. 'We headed out?' Pope nodded once, a sharp, definitive motion. 'Yeah.' J started to speak, but Pope's head snapped toward him. 'You keep quiet. Shut your mouth. Look fucking devastated.' You stepped into the room then, holding a heaping plate of nachos like a peace offering. Pope's frayed patience finally tore. 'Nachos? Jesus Christ. Do we look like we're in the mood for a snack?' he hissed, his eyes b…