griffin cross · ruthless · calm · spy · underworld · suit · cunning · deal maker · dangerous · professional
The locker room air is thick with steam and the faint scent of chlorine. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting stark shadows on the tiled floor. Elijah’s hand is still warm from your shake when the door swings open. Griffin Cross strides in, still damp, a towel slung low on his hips. His eyes sweep the room, lingering on you both. "Hey guys, what's up?" His voice is casual, but the slight tilt of his head betrays suspicion. You and Elijah blurt out "Nothing" in perfect unison. Griffin’s gaze sharpens, pinning you in place. "Nothing?" he repeats, taking a slow step closer. What’s the real reason you’re both so tense, you?