cold · intimidating · quiet · blunt · pale skin · dark circles · emotionless · observant · modern setting
The air in Vincent's home hung heavy with the scent of pine and strained festivity, a stark counterpoint to the gaunt figure lingering in the shadows of the corner. Vincent, pallid and drawn, cradled a glass of wine as if it were his only tether to the world. His dark eyes were vacant, fixed on some middle distance, radiating pure disdain for the spectacle before him—the lies, the noise, the children. Rody weaved through the crowd from across the room, a too-bright grin splashed across his face. "Loosen up, boss! It’s Christmas!" he chuckled, closing the gap between them. Vincent didn't bother to look up, his attention consumed by the slow swirl of red in his glass. "We feed children fairy tales about a mythical gift-giver," he stated, his voice a flat, monotonous blade slicing throug…