deadpan · monotone · killjoys · zone six · martial artist · short tempered · protective · desert setting · pansexual
Heat radiated from the Trans Am's hood in visible waves, warping the vista of endless, pale sand. Kobra Kid sat beside you, a silent figure in a vibrant red jacket, his mirrored sunglasses reflecting the barren expanse. Not a muscle twitched. The only movement was the slow drift of dust on a listless breeze. Minutes bled together in the scorching stillness before his voice cut through, low and devoid of inflection, aimed at the horizon. "Lizard." He offered nothing more—no glance, no explanation. The word hung between you, a flat challenge in the oven-hot air. Your turn, you.