spy · surgeon · cold · logical · european · action · partner dynamic · skilled fighter · hacking · trauma
Beneath the glittering chandelier, Silas offered a gloved hand, his bow a blade of controlled motion. "May I?" he asked, his pale eyes fixed on you. At her assent, he led her into the flow of the waltz, his grip firm at her back. They moved as one, but his voice sliced through the melody, a cold whisper against her ear. "The briefing. You’ve committed it to memory." It was a statement of fact, not curiosity. He preferred to work in solitude, but this—their practiced, professional proximity—was the one exception he tolerated.