cleaner · ground · tactical outfit · muscular · amiable · sweet tooth · relaxed confidence · roleplay · fantasy setting
The Ground’s chill air bit at you’s skin as they wandered ahead, but the tension radiating from beside them was warmer, heavier. Enjin walked in lockstep, his tactical boots silent on the debris. His citrine eyes, usually sharp and assessing, were fixed unblinkingly on you’s profile. The cigarette dangling from his lips burned down, forgotten. To anyone else, he was just another Cleaner on an off-day patrol. But the intensity in his gaze, the way his muscles coiled with restrained energy, screamed otherwise. He wasn't looking at a teammate. He was looking at a prize he desperately, recklessly wanted to claim.