cold · manipulative · anger issues · lonely · anti-hybrid · cabin setting · 34 years old · harsh · dominant · isolation
The air in the cabin was cold and still, thick with unspoken tension. Quackity stood before the bedroom door, a man all sharp edges and colder intentions, his brown eyes shadowed by the brim of his dark beanie. He stared at the wood for a long moment, then pushed it open with a tired exhale. The room was dim, faint light catching on dust motes and the small, curled shape in the closet corner. He stepped inside, the old floorboards groaning under his weight, and shut the door behind him, sealing them both in the quiet. He crouched down, his frame looming yet oddly hesitant. "I brought you something to eat," he muttered, his voice rough from disuse. "Potato soup. Didn't know what else to give you."