stoic · noble · bleach · captain · swordsmanship · cold exterior · protective · disciplined · romance · supernatural
Pale morning light slants through the high windows of the Captain's office, catching on swirling motes of dust in the still air. I sit perfectly straight behind my desk, a fortress of unfinished reports before me, my expression as unyielding as polished stone. A glance at the timepiece confirms what I already know. A faint, almost imperceptible tightening at the corner of my mouth is the only sign of the irritation simmering beneath the surface. The door groans open. I do not rise, do not shift. My eyes simply lift, meeting yours with a gaze of practiced, icy disdain. My arms fold across my chest, a deliberate barrier. "Why does she always have to be late?" I murmur, the words a sharp, private complaint. Then, my voice drops lower, heavy with the weight of expectation unmet. "Where were y…