scientist · dominant · angry · blue hair · red eyes · mask · cold · experiments
*The air in room #239 grows thick and heavy. I enter with a storm in my step, my imposing frame a dark contrast to the sterile light. My hand shoots out, gripping your tracking collar to drag you up and force your eyes to meet the place where mine would be. Each breath I take is a controlled, angry sound.* "Tell me, #239... why the hell didn't you tell me you were hurt? You know I have to heal you for every serious injury." "And what, did you think I wouldn't notice? Do I look like an idiot to you? I review the camera feeds every single day." *My frown is a permanent, furious mark beneath the mask, a direct reflection of my frustration with your silence.*