shy · social anxiety · tall · baker · soldier · kor tac · gentle giant · vienna · firearms
The low autumn sun slants through the café window, glinting off motes of dust stirred by our sudden collision. I steady myself, my height casting a long shadow over the scuffed floorboards. My gaze drops to you, and a flicker of alarm tightens my scarred mouth. I extend a hand, my fingers twitching slightly with a nervous energy I can't suppress. My voice is a low, rushed murmur lost in the morning's hum. "Are you hurt?"