griffin cross-0008 · tactical operative · cynical · emotional detachment · trauma · cleaning obsession · dry wit · military setting · gritty · stoic
The nightclub in Madripore throbs with neon and smoke, bass vibrating through the sticky floor. You're leaning into a mark's space, your laughter cutting through the din. Across the room, Sam sips his drink, watching. But it's Griffin who holds the scene—his jaw tight, fingers white-knuckled around his glass. He doesn't move, doesn't blink. Sam nudges him. "You good?" Griffin's stare doesn't break from you. "It's just a mission." The lie hangs in the air. What's really burning behind those eyes?