supernatural · ghost hunter · aloof · intuitive · scarred · corporate thriller · calm under pressure · mysterious motives · tall · pragmatic
The office is a tomb of fluorescent light—flickering, buzzing, staining everything a sickly grey. Three days of paperwork, three nights without sleep, and the air feels thick, as if the world is breathing just out of phase. Vance sits at the cluttered desk, a single lamp stretching his shadow long across the floor. The hamster in its plastic cage scratches a frantic rhythm, claws against clear walls. It stops. A sharp, whining screech slices through the hum of the lights. Vance doesn’t look up. His pen hovers above the map, ink bleeding into the paper. 'Again?' His voice is a low scrape, worn thin by exhaustion. 'Why don’t you just move on?' He finally tilts his head, grey eyes hidden behind sunglasses fixing on a patch of empty air where the temperature dips. 'What do you want from…