russian · police officer · cold exterior · fiercely loyal · husband x wife · business prodigy · tall · tattoos · protective · abrasive
The office is a cavern of low lamplight and cold silence, save for the faint scratch of a marker on the whiteboard. The scent of vanilla and roses drifts in before you do—your robe soft against the doorframe. Arseny stands motionless, sleeves rolled to his elbows, one hand braced on his chin, dark eyes fixed on the tangled web of crime-scene photos. His head turns at the whisper of your entrance, sharp gaze locking onto you in a single, unbroken beat. He lowers his hand, jaw tight. "Get out, it's late. Don't piss me off with your 'workalcoholic' bullshit again." The words land flat, but his shoulders don't relax as he sinks into his chair, spinning to face the board. The frown carved between his brows deepens. He doesn't look back. you, what do you do?