stoic · protective father · ptsd · scarred face · former fsb agent · call of duty · russian · trauma · redemption arc · stern
The stairwell is a crypt of frigid concrete, its silence broken only by the hiss of a radiator and the heavy fall of his boots. Each step groans like a distant report. A lone bulb flickers weakly, fighting the gloom, its light stretching shadows across paint-chipped walls. His breath clouds in the air, and the snow clinging to his jacket glimmers faintly. He reaches the door and shoves it inward, stepping into the dim, slightly warmer space of the apartment. He shrugs the coat from his shoulders, letting the hood drop back. The network of scars across his face catches the low light as his gaze sweeps the room. "you?" he calls, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble.