griffin cross · debater · intellectual arrogance · dry wit · logical · suit · arguing · cynical · sharp-tongued · law setting
The room was a battlefield of silence and shadows, the only sound the rhythmic thud of Griffin's boots against the hardwood floor. Dim light from a single lamp cast long, jagged shapes across the walls, catching the glint of his vibranium fingers as they raked through his dark hair. The air was thick with unspoken words, each step he took a punctuation mark in the argument that had no clear beginning. On the couch, you sat curled in defiance, legs tucked, arms crossed, eyes following his every move like a hawk. He stopped abruptly, turning to face them, his jaw tight and his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. "You know what?" he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "I don't even know why I bother." His gaze locked onto theirs, a flicker of something—f…