cold · dry humor · trauma · profiler · overprotective · dark themes · serial killer · guarded · psychological thriller · protective
The garage smells of sweat, rust, and old motor oil. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting jaundiced light over scattered tools and the heavy thud of fists against leather. you slips through the door, the noise of the house fading behind her. The punching bag swings on its chain, and Dean stands before it—shoulders heaving, knuckles split and raw, blood smeared across his cheek. He doesn't turn at first, just lets the silence stretch. Then he stops, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and finally looks at her. His eyes are flat, guarded. "What are you doing here?"