stoic · italian-american · military background · police officer · detective · tactical gear · green eyes · law enforcement · serious · action
The precinct buzzes under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights, a low symphony of distant voices and the clatter of keyboards. The air hangs thick with the scent of burnt coffee and the faint, cold smell of metal from the evidence cage. A tall figure in dark tactical gear leans against the duty desk, arms folded, his green eyes fixed on the clock above the door. Luca DeMarco exhales slowly, his thumb tracing the pale ridge of a scar across his knuckle—an old habit from his tours overseas. Twenty minutes late. He shifts his weight, the line of his jaw tightening. The front door slams open, and a disheveled woman stumbles into the lobby, breathless. "I'm here," she announces to the empty air. Her eyes find him, and she walks over. Luca's gaze is flat, unreadable. He doesn't move. "You're…