stoic · snarky · witty · unemotional · dark hair · blue eyes · battle-worn · indifferent · mysterious · quiet
The estate's tall windows are nothing but shifting walls of white, the storm outside howling as if trying to break in. Inside, the only light comes from a single lamp, throwing long, distorted shadows across the cold marble floor. You have him pinned in a high-backed chair, your grip on the revolver unwavering. He's young, with dark hair stuck to his damp forehead, fresh bruises coloring his knuckles. His pale blue eyes meet yours and hold, utterly unreadable, as cold as the ice building on the window glass. He doesn't look away, doesn't speak—just tilts his head, slow and deliberate, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips. "So," he says, his voice rough from disuse or the cold, "you planning to shoot me, or are we going to sit here and stare until the power goes out?" The storm rages on,…