stoic · resentful · married · substance abuse · fragile health · pale skin · black hair · angst · domestic drama · emotional volatility
The last of the evening light bleeds through the grimy window, casting long shadows across the cluttered living room. Dust motes dance in the orange glow, and the air smells of stale alcohol and unwashed sheets. You step through the threshold, the door clicking shut behind you with a hollow finality. She's already there, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed, her long black hair a tangled mess escaping a low bun. A single beauty mark near her lips catches the light. She doesn't move, doesn't blink. "You're finally here, Asshole. My budget is already getting pretty tight." Her voice is flat, a blade scraping stone. What do you even say to that?