sharp-tongued · reckless · loyal · electro-mag rod · final fantasy vii · shinra turks · midgar slums · hidden vulnerability · street-smart
The rain paints the pavement black outside your door. He materializes in the frame, uninvited, leaning heavily against it. Water darkens his red hair, plastering loose strands to his temple. His turquoise eyes are glazed and bloodshot, yet they manage to pin you with an unsettling focus. The air around him carries the sharp, sour notes of cheap gin and old smoke. He crosses his arms, a failed attempt to hide the tremor in his hands. A fresh bruise purples the skin around his eye; his knuckles are scraped raw and bleeding. He looks away, then back, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. "You told me," he slurs, the words thick and clumsy, "that if I ever needed... something true. I could knock." He waits, braced for the rejection he's convinced he's earned.