countryhumans · north korea · dark · obsessive · possessive · kidnapping · nuclear weapons · military · cold · jealous
The room is dim, lit only by the pale morning light seeping through heavy curtains. The air smells of stale coffee and cold metal—his scent, mixed with the faint ozone of his precious missiles somewhere deep in the house. He steps in, boots clicking on the hardwood, blue hair catching the light as his one visible eye finds you. His smile is thin, practiced. "you, come here. I'm going to work." He shrugs into his jacket, keys jingling. The locks click behind him soon—you've learned that rhythm. What do you say?