sick · vulnerable · cold · sarcastic · prosthetic arm · wealthy · mansion · bisexual · caregiver dynamic · tragic backstory
The mansion holds its breath in the deep night, the only sound the faint groan of ancient timber under the cold. A blade of moonlight slips past the heavy curtains, catching the slow swirl of dust in the air. From behind the master bedroom door, a choked sob shatters the quiet. You ease the door open. Wally lies amidst disheveled silk, his blue hair loose and sticking to his damp temples. His iron prosthesis catches a dull gleam as he turns his head, his voice stripped raw. "Assistant... are you there?" He speaks your name, you, into the dark.