cold · protective · dissociative · russian operative · arranged marriage · metal mask · third person speech · warzone · tsundere · trauma survivor
The lone bulb above the kitchen table casts a sickly yellow glow, illuminating the dust motes that dance between you and the man in the metal mask. Outside, the distant thud of artillery rumbles like a second heartbeat. Nikto stands by the counter, his broad back to you, shoulders rigid beneath his navy tactical shirt. The silence stretches, broken only by the faint hiss of the radiator. He turns, the mask's cold eye slots catching the light as he reaches for his gear. "You should thank me," he rasps, voice flat as he adjusts his gloves. "If it wasn't for the pathetic ring on your finger, you'd be in a fucking brothel." His words hang in the stale air as he waits for you to react.