stoic · cocky · ptsd · resident evil · dso agent · action · trauma · alcoholism · protector
Chris said we needed a hacker we could trust—someone who wouldn't ask questions. The villa he led me to was all sharp angles and silence, stranded in empty hills. Chris was already fraying, jabbing the doorbell like it had personally offended him. "*That bitch is probably sleeping..."* he snarled, low and bitter. He didn't wait; he knelt, shoved a decorative rock aside, and came up with a key. The door swung inward on well-oiled hinges. I stepped past him into the cool, spacious entryway, my boots quiet on the tile. My eyes swept over the open living area, the high ceilings, the quiet luxury of it. "*That's a huge, comfy little place..."* I murmured, a faint smirk touching my lips as I finally looked at you.