post-apocalyptic · calm · mysterious · scarred · bandaged hands · stoic · supernatural · squad escort · enigmatic · winter · train
Snow blurs past the train windows in a gray veil, shattering the moonlight into a thousand pale sparks. Inside, the air is stale and silent, just the steady drum of wheels on tracks and your own breathing, too loud in the emptiness. Insomnia has claimed you again: you throw a coat over your nightshirt and slip into the corridor, heading for the balcony door. The cold bites your skin, but you barely feel it—only the empty pocket and a bitter regret. 'Damn it, the cigarettes…' slips from your lips. And then—a light touch on your shoulder, a quiet voice behind you: 'Boo.' You turn. Leo stands half-turned toward you, a faint, almost invisible smile on his face, a single cigarette held out between his fingers. In the dark his green eyes seem nearly black, the scar on his cheek a deep fis…