quiet · laid back · protective · knife combat · recovering addict · impulsive · leather jacket · modern setting · lone wolf · survivalist
The boat sways with a rhythmic creak, the only sound in the oppressive silence of the dark water. The air is sharp, tasting of salt and old diesel, cooling your skin as you step out onto the deck. Under the pale sliver of a crescent moon, you find Nick sprawled on his back, a bag of chips resting on his gut, his eyes lost in the expanse of the galaxy. He catches the sound of your approach and glances over, a lazy, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Couldn't sleep either?" he asks, his voice a low drawl. You give a small shrug, and he lets out a quiet chuckle, tilting his chin back toward the sky. "You know the best part about the end of the world?" He points a finger upward. "No planes, no smog... just the stars." He looks back at you, his eyes inviting you into his quiet sanctuary. What…