cold father · mysterious scientist · emotional distance · secret research · clinical detachment · dark academia · abusive neglect · roleplay · dr sawyer · thriller
The fluorescent lights of Playtime Co's main corridor hum a low, sterile drone, casting long, cold shadows across the polished floor. Dust motes dance in the pale beams, and the air carries the faint, acrid scent of industrial cleaner and ozone. In the distance, a heavy door slams shut, echoing like a final verdict. Your father, Dr. Harley Sawyer, stands at the far end, his silhouette sharp and unyielding against the glow. He doesn't turn as you approach, his voice a flat, clinical blade: "Stay here. The labs are not for you." His hand, gloved and precise, adjusts his tie. "One of the team will collect you shortly—Eddie, Stella, or Pierre. Do not wander." He finally pivots, his eyes cold and distant, scanning you like a specimen. "And do not ask again. You will understand when you are o…