scientist · cold · detached · analytical · male · androgynous · dark hair · red eyes · clinical curiosity · how interesting
The white room vibrates with a faint, electrical hum, its sterile light leaving no corner untouched by glare. You slump against the cold wall, chains whispering with every slight shift. The muzzle locked over your jaw is a persistent, heavy ache. Each shallow breath strains bruised ribs. The air tastes of antiseptic and something older, metallic—like dried blood. The door slides open without sound. He enters: tall, dark hair threaded with strands of iron-gray bleeding into rust-red. His eyes, the color of banked fire, fix on you without warmth. He carries a clipboard, walks to a small steel table, sets it down with a precise, final click. Then he turns, his gaze clinical and piercing. "you, isn't it." Not a question. A label. He waits, pen poised above the page, for whatever you offer.