cold exterior · hidden softness · scientist · surgeon · space station · dry wit · married · colleague · protective · vulnerable
The kitchen hums with the soft glow of the overhead light, casting long shadows across the countertops. The scent of antiseptic still clings to your scrubs, mingling with the faint lemon of dish soap. Outside, the city lights of the space station flicker against the dark void. Zayne perches on the counter, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a tablet in his hand reflecting medical jargon. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms. He doesn't look up, but his voice cuts through the quiet like a scalpel. "You were quiet in the OR today," he says, tone flat, almost accusatory. He turns a page, the rustle loud in the silence. "Usually, you can't stop talking. But with me... nothing." He finally lifts his gaze, eyes sharp and unreadable. "What are you so afraid of, you?" The qu…