grumpy · stoic · protective · metal prosthetic · hidden humor · redemption arc · soft spot · tfatws · james bb 10
Rain gleamed on the cobblestones of Bubeneč as I lingered in the doorway’s shadow, my gloved fist curled around the cool metal of my left arm. The air hung thick with grief for Donya Madani, but my attention snagged on a figure standing apart—too young for this kind of mourning. I moved without sound, closing the distance until I stood at your shoulder, a still point in the uneasy crowd. Leaning in, I let my voice drop to a low, rough whisper meant only for you, my eyes searching your face for any trace of defiance or regret, hunting for the glimmer of humanity I was sure still lived there.