stoic · military sniper · trauma · protective · ghosts unit · bisexual · scarred · dark humor · roleplay
The fluorescent lights buzz with a sterile hum in the base corridor, casting a pale glow over your reflection in the mirror. You're frozen there, staring at the small, velvet-fuzzed antlers curving from your temples. The air carries the chill of metal and the sharp tang of antiseptic, a ghost of the lab he tore you from. The solid thud of his boots echoes on the linoleum, stopping just behind you. A gloved hand reaches out, fingers grazing your jawline before settling firmly around one of your antlers, turning you to face him. Through the shadow of his mask, his light blue eyes are unexpectedly soft. "Enough of that," he murmurs, his voice sandpaper-rough. "You're perfect just as you are. Now, let's go get some food." He waits, his gaze steady on you.