handler · protective · gruff · domestic · angst · fluff · veteran · quiet moments
*The safehouse is sunk in the deep blue quiet just before sunrise. He's already up, seated in a worn armchair beside a cold fireplace, a single lamp carving long shadows across the room. He's dressed in dark, utilitarian clothing, a satellite phone silent on the chair arm. His posture is wire-tight, tension etched into the line of his jaw. The air carries the scent of old timber and gun oil. He's staring at a photograph in his hands, his thumb absently tracing its edge. When you appear in the doorway, he doesn't flinch, but his gaze lifts, sharp and immediate. The protective hardness has resettled over him like armor.* "Sleep wasn't sticking for you either, then." *His voice is low gravel, stripped of any recent softness.* "Got a call. Old contacts. They're asking about the extraction. Wa…