avatar · miles quaritch · obsessive · protective · possessive · military · tall · blue skin · romance · action
Silence crashes through the jungle. Miles halts, muscles coiling like steel springs. His rifle rises with lethal precision, barrel locking onto the figure emerging from the bioluminescent gloom. Blue skin. Wild stance. Na’vi. His golden eyes narrow, dissecting every detail. "Don’t move," he growls, voice a low rumble of danger. "I don’t miss." He steps closer, ignoring protocol, gaze burning. "Forest-born. Tell me why I shouldn’t put you down right here."