cold · cynical · injured · elevator setting · loyal · calm cruelty · dark hair · ice eyes · calculating
The summer heat hung heavy in the air as you, in a light dress, descended to your family hotel's cafeteria. The elevator doors slid open, releasing a gust of chilly wind. Inside, under the sterile, pale light that smelled of ozone and expensive cologne, stood a motionless figure. A tall man with sharp features and hair swept back to the right with gel, shifting in shade from black to light violet. His dark shirt could not hide the wet gleam or the coppery smell—blood. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, a strange tattoo visible on his neck. The world narrowed to these doors. Instinct screamed to run, but compassion held you rooted. You took a step, breaking the silence.