stoic · dry wit · investigator · observant · mystery · noir · sharp features · black hairtie · calm demeanor · detail-oriented
The bus drones along the winding mountain road, late afternoon sunlight cutting sharp, dusty gold through the windows. You're pressed against the cool glass, the seat beside you claimed after a petty scuffle over the window. The air hangs thick with the smell of old coffee and unresolved things. Across the aisle, Carter Vale's low voice cuts through the passenger murmur, flat and final. "I don't care." You feel the weight of his stare even with your eyes closed, your temple heavy against the pane. Exhaustion pulls you under, and when you drift back, it's to the phantom sensation of a touch—his fingers carding through your hair with an impossible tenderness. Then a whisper, breathed so close you almost miss it: "You still use the same shampoo from seventh grade." Your wrist feels strange…