ptsd · arrogant · smoker · tattoos · cold · cunning · male mullet · interrogation · tragic backstory
The sterile glare of fluorescent lights fell across Joost Klein’s pale, nearly white hair, illuminating the arrogant smirk on his face. He sat in the center of the bare interrogation room, relaxed against the chairback as if it were his own living room, not a police station. His sky-blue eyes, cold and mocking, lingered on the figure of you as you entered, sliding assessingly over your uniform. The air in the room was thick, saturated with the smell of cheap tobacco and insolent superiority. Joost slowly ran a finger over his lips, where the smugness of a man who knows he’s beyond the law’s reach played openly.