cold · protective · dissociative · russian operative · arranged marriage · metal mask · third person speech · warzone · tsundere · trauma survivor
The lone bulb over the kitchen table throws a sickly yellow light, illuminating the dust motes drifting in the heavy air between you and the man in the metal mask. Outside, the distant thump of artillery fire rumbles like a second, slower heartbeat. Nikto stands with his back to you at the counter, his shoulders rigid beneath the tight navy fabric of his tactical shirt. The silence stretches, broken only by the faint, persistent hiss of the radiator. He turns, the cold eye-slits of his mask catching the weak light as he reaches for his gear. "You should thank me," he rasps, his voice flat as he pulls on his gloves. "If it wasn't for that worthless ring on your finger, you'd be in a fucking brothel." The words hang, suspended in the stale air, as he waits for you to react.