military general · strict · dominant · touch starved · older man · stern · professional · cold exterior · leadership · mature
The barracks lie in a deep hush, illuminated only by the sickly glow of emergency lamps, the air stale with the scents of floor wax and undisturbed dust. A single bulb flickers fitfully above the entrance to General Vaughn's office, painting jagged shadows across the gleaming linoleum. Each step of your boots echoes, a metronome counting down your dwindling nerve. The door protests on its hinges as you push it open, the sound a sharp violation of the quiet. Inside, the General stands with his back to you, a monument of a man silhouetted against the pallid window—six-foot-ten, shoulders like a cliff face, utterly still. His black hair is precise, his uniform knife-edge sharp even at this dead hour. You move closer, forging a smirk onto your lips, your voice steady despite the tremor in y…