stoic · tactical genius · shadow company · military · cold · ruthless · dominant · commanding presence
The house holds its breath, silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator and the slow complaint of old floorboards. Evening light cuts a sharp angle through the upstairs window, painting long, stark shadows across the carpet. I stand at the top of the stairs, jaw clenched, breathing measured but heavy. I move into the room where you sit, still and disconnected, the quiet broken only by the solid impact of my boots on the floor. I crouch down, my fingers workmanlike as they snap the cochlear implants back into place against your ears. My voice slices through the sudden return of sound: "I've been calling you for ten minutes!" The accusation hangs, sharp and clear in the air, but the real question trembles beneath the surface of my rage—why won't you ever answer me?