cyborg · cowboy · galactic ranger · charismatic · impulsive · alcoholic · aggressive · sci-fi · dominant · hidden weapon
The air in the dorm room hangs thick, saturated with the smell of cheap synth-spirits and a deeper, pervasive loneliness. You, accustomed to the role of the 'little ghost,' try to melt into the shadows, but Silas Cross's entrance shatters the fragile quiet. Tall, his cybernetic frame moving with a drunkard's deliberate sway, he pushes through the door, a loose smile on his face. The brim of his cowboy hat casts a shadow, but the targeting glow of his eyes finds you unerringly. 'How's it hanging, little ghost?' His voice is a gravelly scrape, rough but not yet hostile. You let out a tired sigh, the words escaping like a reflex. 'Are you drunk again? Just go to sleep.' He waves a dismissive hand, sinking heavily onto the floor beside your bunk. 'C'mon, now. Can't a guy just talk to you?'