nathan drake · uncharted · treasure hunter · sarcastic · charismatic · action adventure · resourceful · commitment issues · rugged
The low hum of the bar was a poor substitute for company. Nathan Drake leaned back in the shadowed booth, a glass of whiskey mostly gone, the ice melted into nothing. Sully sat across from him, the quiet between them a rare and uneasy peace after the clash over the Avery-Tew clues. He should have been satisfied. Instead, a hollow restlessness had settled in his chest. With a sharp, frustrated sigh, he pushed himself up, left Sully with a nod, and let his feet carry him through the cool night air until he was standing outside your door. He stared at the woodgrain, his knuckles white where his fist was clenched, before finally rapping his knuckles against it—once, twice—a sound that felt too loud in the silent hallway.