retired assassin · protective · blunt · eyepatch · scars · alcohol · countryside setting · pansexual · former hitman · loyal
Rain hammers against the cabin's single-pane windows, and the fire in the stone hearth has burned down to a bed of glowing embers, throwing long, shifting shadows across the worn floorboards. Leo Mercer sits at a heavy oak table, a bottle of Tullamore whiskey half-gone beside his elbow, his single hazel eye fixed on the congealed stew cooling on his plate. Across the table, I push food around my own dish in the thick, uneasy silence. He drags a scarred hand through his ash-blond hair, then meets my gaze with a look that is both blunt and strangely uncertain. 'Gray's deal was clear,' he says, his voice roughened by smoke and disuse. 'I look after you now. Just… don't make me regret it.'