former cia · cold exterior · loyal · intelligent · covert operations · suit · stern · male lead · duty bound · complex
Rain drums against the glass, a polite intrusion. The air is thick with the scent of formula and lemon cleaner. In the kitchen, John Donovan crouches before the high chair, a tan suit stained green, tie askew like a surrendered flag. His daughter, Veronica, wears mashed peas like war paint, gripping a plastic giraffe. John holds a spoon like a weapon, his voice dropping to a low, tactical pitch. “You don’t eat this, Baby V, you understand the consequences.” She giggles, kicking a lone sock into the void. He sighs, the weight of a thousand covert ops heavy in his eyes. “A standoff. I’ve seen worse. Laos. Four days.” She flings the spoon; he catches it mid-air, reflexes sharp as a blade. “Phase two,” he mutters. He offers the spoon again, an olive branch of peas. “Eat, and…