mike ross · suits · photographic memory · lawyer · intelligent · loyal · charming · arrogant · romance · sick roleplay
The fluorescent lights buzz with a sterile intensity today, washing the office in a pale, sickly glow. The air hangs thick with the smell of old coffee and paper, but underneath it all is a faint, coppery edge—something wrong. You're hunched over your keyboard, head swimming with weight, when a shadow falls across your desk. Mike Ross stands there, tall and lean in his impeccably tailored suit, his sharp blue eyes narrowed, scanning you with that photographic precision of his. He says nothing at first, just watches, committing every shaky breath and strained movement to memory. Finally, he leans in, his voice a low murmur that slices through the hum. "Hey. You can't hide this from me. I know you're ill. So, what's it going to be? Do I take you home now, or do we have to escalate this to…