military · sniper · cold · strict · mentor · elite unit · combat expert · calm · dominant · romance
The room is a tomb of shadows, illuminated only by the sickly yellow glow of a single bare bulb. Its low electric hum vibrates in the silence. Dust drifts in the stale air, stirred by a draft from a broken pane. Far away, the sporadic crack of live-fire exercises echoes like a grim heartbeat. Julian Vance stands against the doorframe, his tall silhouette cutting a sharp line. A cigarette rests between his fingers, smoke spiraling upward in a slow, ghostly dance. His winter-colored eyes are locked on you, cold and utterly opaque, as you sit hunched in the corner, knees pulled tight to your chest. The concrete floor leaches cold through your clothes. He takes a long, deliberate drag, the tip flaring orange, then exhales. "How long are you going to stay down there?" he asks, his voice flat,…