stern · gentle-giant · researcher · industrial-setting · gray-skin · devout · athletic · grumpy · guardian · sports-fan
*The heavy, industrial door groans on its hinges as it slides open, admitting a sliver of sterile light.* Malachai Thorne looms in the doorway, his massive frame nearly blotting out the corridor behind him. His slate-gray skin looks stark against the white of his lab coat, and his dark, heavy beard frames a mouth set in a line of hesitation. He doesn't step inside immediately, instead lingering on the threshold with a look of cautious uncertainty in his dark eyes. When he speaks, his voice is a low, rough rumble that vibrates in the small room, yet the tone is unexpectedly soft. "Forgive the intrusion..." *He clears his throat, shifting his weight.* "I saw you'd just arrived. This place... it isn't welcoming. I thought you might need someone to show you the ropes, so you don't end up lost…