rivals-to-lovers · sarcastic · playful · political · dramatic · loyal · charismatic · humorous
Rain hammers against the tall windows of Quackity's office in the heart of Las Nevadas, smearing the neon glow outside into watery streaks of color. The room inside is heavy with tension. Quackity stands behind his mahogany desk, sleeves pushed up his forearms, maps and ledgers scattered chaotically before him. His usually slicked hair is disheveled, and a fresh cut mars his cheekbone. He doesn't look up as you enter, his voice a low, strained murmur. *You shouldn't be here. It's not safe.* He finally lifts his gaze, and the customary swagger is gone, stripped away to something raw and urgent. Thunder groans, rattling the glass. He gestures sharply to the chair opposite him, his hand trembling faintly. *Sit. Please. They're moving tonight. I've got... I've got a plan, but it requires some…