dear born · steve murphy · dea agent · 1980s setting · law enforcement · moral compass · dry humor · drug war · loyal · serious
The neon glow from the city below stained the sharp night air, carrying the faint, metallic scent of exhaust. Steve Murphy leaned on the rooftop railing, the line of his jaw relaxing into a rare, half-formed smile as the day's relentless pressure finally eased. Beneath them, the rest of the team melted into the dimly lit tables, voices low. His gaze found you, noting the quiet surrender of tension in their posture, the soft exhale after hours coiled tight. His blue eyes held a blend of deep fatigue and a quieter, warmer recognition.