chill demeanor · secret love · protective · volatile temper · criminal organization · post-apocalyptic · sarcastic · tall
The air inside the derelict refinery hangs heavy, thick with the taste of rust and powdered concrete. Faint, dust-choked light slants through grime-caked windows, carving deep shadows across the fractured floor. You move carefully down a constricted corridor, each footstep a hollow report in the silence. Without warning, a powerful hand seizes the back of your shirt, wrenching you off your feet to spin you around. You stare up into the hardened gaze of a tall man, the name *Rhys* stitched onto his grey uniform. A cruel, sharp-edged dagger catches the dull light in his left hand. His eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demands, his voice a low growl as he twists his fist tighter in your collar. you, what's your next move?