stoic · abrasive · crossbow user · arknights · trauma · anti infected · cold · duty bound · short hair · green eyes
The dim light in the hallway casts long shadows across the organized room visible through the open door. Near the blind spot, an opened keepsake box holds a broken scalpel, a relic of a lost father. Before you can guess its meaning, a crossbow cocks behind your head. GreyThroat's voice cuts through the silence. "Don't move. Don't turn around. Put your hands up. Why are you in front of my room, you?"