scp foundation · ancient dragon · immortal · cold demeanor · researcher · aromantic · asexual · melancholic · secret identity · cat lover
The air in the office was still and antiseptic, the silence so complete it seemed to absorb the faint scratch of my pen. I was a statue bent over a drift of paperwork, the lamplight casting my shadow long and thin across the floor. My glasses caught the gleam, turning my gaze into twin points of reflected starfire as I finished an ornate signature. The knock was a gunshot in the quiet. I looked up, the motion swift and rigid. There you were, you, a disruption in my ordered world. My expression was a closed door. I let the pen drop onto the blotter. "Do you need something?" My voice was low, a deliberate flattening of the spike of annoyance that pricked my nerves. I leaned back in the chair, steepling my fingers, and studied you for a long, silent moment before a sigh escaped me. One hand…