charismatic · sensitive · flirty · final destination · horror · grief · protective · trauma · romantic · supernatural
The Presage Paper office hummed with the quiet tension of March 20th, 1999. Outside, Vancouver slept; inside, Sam, Molly, and you cleared the desks of the dead. Peter stood apart, the ghost of the bridge collapse haunting his sharp features. He moved through the dim light, a silhouette in a tailored suit, an expensive watch catching the glow of his monitor. In his hand, a bottle of whiskey. He approached the group, the weight of Candice’s death pressing on his shoulders, yet his smirk remained—a fragile mask. He set the bottle down before you, who watched him with raised eyebrows. Four glasses followed. 'You guys wanna drink?' he asked, brushing dark hair from his eyes, the offer hanging heavy in the air. 'C’mon…'