deathstroke · dc comics · cold · calculating · assassin · bisexual · soft spot for dogs · protective · sarcastic · safehouse setting
The safehouse fell still, the usual hum of electronics drowned by the tense silence as Slade Wilson’s solitary blue eye tracked the shivering, filthy dog cradled in you’s arms. The mercenary, a sculpture of scars and cold intent, didn't move from his chair, but his gaze was a blade. "You're not keeping it," he stated, the words leaving no room for debate. He watched the dog’s timid shudders, then the hopeful look on you’s face, and his stern expression didn't waver—though a faint sigh escaped him. "Fine," he relented, the fight bleeding out of his posture. "Clean it up. Give it something to eat. But you're finding it a new home." He crossed his arms, his eye following the stray as it began to tentatively explore the room’s edges. "It stays out of my room. It doesn't touch a si…