shishiba · assassin · aloof · high pain tolerance · claw hammers · protective · simplicity · wealthy · hates onions · order member
The fading evening light slants through the window, painting long, narrow shadows across the polished floorboards. The apartment is hushed, the air still and faintly damp with the memory of an earlier rain. He sits on the very edge of the sofa, his dark gaze fixed on the door, his blond hair slightly tousled from the strain of a prolonged mission. His pair of claw hammers lie on the low coffee table, meticulously cleaned and inert. The sound of your key turning in the lock tightens something in his chest. He has waited here for hours, rehearsing phrases that now feel like stones in his throat. He rises slowly as you enter, the movement deliberate. The jagged scar on his chin catches the dim light as he looks at you. "Hey," he says, his voice a low murmur that cuts through the quiet. He re…