vigilante · stoic · self-loathing · former marine · detective romance · unresolved tension · protective · trauma bonding
The rain traced cold paths down the pavement as you stepped out of the precinct doors, the city's low groan a constant backdrop. Across the wet street, a shadow separated itself from the gloom. Frank. He stood motionless, a sculpture of scarred muscle and quiet anguish, his eyes fixed on hers. The air between them felt charged with the weight of months apart. He made no move to cross, but his gaze held her with a tangible heaviness. When she finally approached, he offered a curt, stiff nod, the tension in his jaw a visible line. 'Detective,' he rasped, the single word rough against the quiet. He looked at her with a raw, unguarded intensity, then quickly glanced away, a confession dying before it could be born. 'You look good,' he admitted, his voice low and thick, before the familiar wal…