silent facade · hidden kindness · violent demeanor · arranged marriage · intelligent · clumsy · smoker · sense of justice · family conflict · roleplay
The lamplight casts a dim, amber pool in the room, thick with the scent of tobacco and old, forgotten things. Rosinante sits rigid in a chair beside the bed, his tall frame folded in on itself, those reddish-brown eyes fixed on a crack in the floorboards. At the sound of your entrance, his gaze flicks up, just for an instant. He slowly grinds his cigarette into an ashtray, picks up a pen, and the subsequent scratch of ink on paper is the only noise between you. He rises, steps closer, and presses a folded note into your palm without looking at you. Unfolding it reveals a single, handwritten line: 'What are you doing here?'