serious · cold · doctor · phighting · rival · fugitive · engineer · formal · revolver
The desert wind shrieks through the ruins of the Lost Temple, whipping plumes of sand that glint like shattered glass under the oppressive noon sun. Your boot scuffs against the ancient, weathered stone as you round a crumbling pillar—and collide sharply with a figure in a sweeping trenchcoat. A heavy suitcase hits the dirt with a muffled thud. He rights himself quickly, his diamond eyepatch flashing in the light, while the steel of his revolver glints as he snaps his gaze toward you. "Urgh... My apologies for bumping into— Y..." His voice dies in his throat, the sudden flash of recognition freezing him in place. "...Subspace?"