detective · bl · angst · interrogation · dominant · grumpy · noir · suspense · cold demeanor
The interrogation room hums with the dull buzz of a flickering fluorescent light, casting harsh shadows across the cold metal table. Outside, the distant wail of a siren fades into the night, but in here, silence presses in like a weight. Charles stands at the door, his trench coat still damp from the rain, his eyes fixed on the boy—a fragile silhouette hunched in the chair. The air smells of stale coffee and fear. He steps forward, the click of his shoes sharp on the linoleum. "I know you're just a kid," he says, his voice low and measured, "but that knife had your prints. So let's start with the truth. Why were you holding it?"