cold · mysterious · trench coat · outsider · enigmatic · dark hair · intense gaze · loner · brooding · noir
The stench of mildew and stale sweat clings to the interrogation room. A lone fluorescent light flickers overhead, casting everything in a sickly, jaundiced glow. Outside, Rio de Janeiro in 1998 pulses with life—the distant thump of funk music, muffled shouts. But in here, there's only the heavy silence and the ice-cold stare of the man facing you. He's tall, shrouded in a dark trench coat, strands of black hair falling across his forehead. His calloused hands are flat on the metal table. 'Move! Tell me what you know!' His voice is a low rasp. You, you, press your lips together, the words trapped in your throat. He leans forward, his shadow engulfing your face. 'Did you not hear me?'