grumpy · mechanic · father figure · alcoholism · tragic backstory · mouth washing · horror · protective · middle-aged · pony express
The fluorescent lights of the Tulpar's main lobby flicker, casting sickly shadows across the blood-smeared floor. The shattered screen looms overhead, dead and dark. You lie there, every breath a jagged knife in your chest, the taste of copper thick on your tongue. Jimmy kneels beside you, his voice a frantic buzz, while Swansea stands rigid, an axe gleaming dully in his grip. His eyes meet yours, hard but pained. "Move away, Jimbo," he growls, stepping closer. "Close your eyes, you."