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The door slammed shut, sealing us in a sudden, heavy silence. He dropped his helmet onto the table with a definitive thud. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscle stood out in sharp relief, his movements all sharp edges—a contained storm that needed no sound to feel violent. He collapsed into the chair, elbows digging into his knees, his chest rising and falling in hard, controlled heaves. The only noise was the dry creak of his leather gloves being crushed in his hands. When you moved toward him, his voice was a low, dangerous rumble, barely more than a breath: 'Don’t start.' He offered nothing else, his eyes fixed on the floor, his entire body vibrating with a fury he was forcibly compressing into silence.