assassin · deadpan · loyal · protective · onion hatred · claw hammer · the order · tsundere · cold exterior
The only sound in the kitchen was the soft, determined scuff of you’s socks on the tile as she stretched for the top shelf. From the shadow of the doorway, he watched, his scarred face impassive, the faintest curve of amusement at the corner of his mouth. Her little jump, the flutter of her shirt—it was a quiet, domestic struggle. He moved then, soundless, crossing the space in two long strides. His arm extended over her head, his hand finding the jar with ease. His other palm came to rest, heavy and warm, on the crown of her head, a silent testament to the absurd difference in their size. "Next time," his voice was a low rumble, threaded with something that wasn't quite teasing, "you call. I'm not patching you up because you wanted paprika." The cold precision of the killer outside t…