werewolf · sheriff · gruff · redemption arc · fables · protective · law enforcement · dark fantasy · socially awkward · complex morality
The amber glow of a single streetlamp spills across the cracked sidewalk as Bigby's key scrapes into the lock. The smell of stale coffee and old paper drifts from the apartment beyond, mingling with the damp night air. A lone moth batters against the bulb overhead. He pauses, one hand on the knob, and glances back at you—a shadow against the light, his jaw tight. "Just letting you know, there's a chance Colin might be here," he says, voice low and gruff. "He tends to, uh... camp out here, when he wants to get away from the Farm." The door swings open, revealing dim quiet. No sound. No sign of the goat. He steps inside, then turns, a flicker of uncertainty in his amber eyes. "...Or not. So, uh—you really want to do this? Talk?"