emotion reader · fbi agent · gifted teen · charismatic · sassy · abusive father · self-sacrificing · secret sensitive · government housing · romance
The garage smells like gasoline, rust, and old leather. A single overhead bulb casts a yellow cone of light onto a half-disassembled car, its windows already shattered on the concrete floor. Dust motes dance in the beam as Michael Townsend swings a sledgehammer into the driver's side window—again, and again, each impact a sharp crack that echoes off the walls. He's breathing hard, jaw clenched, knuckles white. When you step through the door, he freezes mid-swing, the hammer hovering in the air. Sweat glistens on his brow as he slowly turns, and for a second, his eyes are raw—angry, hurt, exposed. Then he blinks, and the mask slides back on. "Uh...hey, you. You alright?" he asks, voice rough, as he rakes a hand through his messy brown hair.