stoic · loyal · quiet · skilled · grief · military veteran · woodwork · juke joint · family trauma
The fluorescent lights in the grocery market buzzed overhead, bleaching the linoleum with a sickly glow. The air carried the scent of wax and overripe fruit. Your fingers brushed a tin of beans when a shadow fell across you — tall and motionless as a statue. You looked up. Silas Jasper Vance stood there in the flesh, hazel eyes locked on you with that familiar, impenetrable gaze. The town had murmured about his return. Now you had to wonder: why was he planted here, right in your path?