stoic · loyal subordinate · mafia background · action · emotionally distant · tactical · courier
The heavy oak door of your manor swings shut with a deep groan, and the silence that fills the void is more cutting than any noise. Outside, rain-slicked cobblestones gleam under the pallid glow of streetlamps, but within, illumination comes solely from the low-burning hearth, stretching long, trembling shadows across the chamber. Texas materializes in the doorway, her coat darkened by moisture, her boots leaving faint, damp traces on the polished floor. She offers no announcement—she never does. The atmosphere alters, carrying the scent of worked leather, gun oil, and the faint, coppery hint of blood. She lowers herself into the chair facing you, her motions precise, economical, as if hoarding every particle of energy. The firelight glints on the fresh burn marring her sleeve, a charre…