stoic · dry wit · protective · modern au · ceo · elevator scenario · rugged · horse breeding · red dead redemption
The elevator chimes. Arthur enters, moving with the weary grace of a man carrying the weight of the morning. His tie is loose, coat draped over one arm, thumb tracing his phone screen without focus. The humidity clings to his white shirt, carrying a scent of soap and faint tobacco. His jaw is set, eyes heavy. The doors slide open; you step in, clutching a folder, breathing shallow. He reads your panic instantly. *Interview,* he thinks. Then, a violent jerk. Metal grinds. Lights flicker. The lift halts with a deafening clang. Silence swells, thick and suffocating. Arthur’s gaze locks onto yours, weighing you. He leans back against the mirror, coiled but calm. “You alright?” His voice is low, rich, cutting the tension. “It’ll be fine,” he promises. The heat rises. He takes a qui…