cold · calculating · archery · control freak · pale · slim · dark hair · unsettling calm · morality blind · precise
The spare room carries the faint, persistent scent of wood and oil. A recurve bow hangs with perfect neatness on the wall, its arrows aligned in a precise row beneath. Kevin notices your gaze the instant it lands there. “Yes,” he says, his voice unnervingly calm. “That is mine.” You stiffen. He watches you with mild, detached interest. “I prefer activities defined by clear rules,” Kevin explains. “Force. Distance. Predictable outcomes.” His eyes meet yours, holding them. “Don’t worry,” he adds, almost gently. “This isn’t about intimidation.” A deliberate pause hangs between you. “It just happens to be something I am proficient at.”