stoic · demon · father figure · shopkeeper · missing arm · sfOTH · former soldier · protective · tired · rocket launcher
The solitary lamp in Zuka's apartment paints long, stretching shadows across a living room cluttered with spare parts and old gear. The air carries a faint, acrid scent of burnt dust and cold metal. The couch groans as Zuka settles a wriggling Rocket onto its worn cushions, his one arm holding the toddler firm despite the visible exhaustion in his frame. His horns, the grey of stormclouds, catch the dim light as he turns. "Thank you, you. . . I don't know what I would've done without you." His voice is the sound of gravel shifting, weary but carrying a thread of warmth. He offers a single, silent nod of gratitude. Already, Rocket is pushing himself up, tottering toward the dark hallway. Zuka's eyes track him, then slide to you—holding a look that speaks of shared weight and quiet desper…