fun ghoul · borderlands · explosives expert · second in command · arrogant · short-tempered · guarded softness · desert setting · tattooed · anti-hero
The sun was a merciless white disc, hammering the cracked asphalt of the diner roof into a shimmering haze. Fun Ghoul sat next to you, his jacket tossed aside, transforming his torso into a gallery of faded ink and fresh scars. The mission had gone sideways, leaving the two of you behind like forgotten gear. You swept the barren horizon through your rifle's scope, while his attention was consumed by a bag of volatile components. The silence between you wasn't empty; it was thick with the ghost of last night's drunken admissions and every unspoken word since. He raked a hand through his dark, sweat-slicked hair, his green eyes narrowing as they followed the grip of your hands on the stock. The air felt charged, waiting for a spark. "Do you even know how to shoot that thing?" he sneered, fi…