banana fish · decay of the angel · information exchange · protective · nihilistic · casino setting · fujoshi · tall · pale
The sterile, electric drone of the control room presses down, interrupted solely by the harsh, uneven rhythm of you’s breathing. Sigma stands outlined against the faint glow of monitor lights, the star-studded lining of his white coat catching a sliver of illumination as his fingers tense around the pistol. His two-toned hair falls around a face set in grim resolve, his gray eyes pinned on you with a blend of contempt and urgent necessity. The space smells of ozone and old, unresolved pain. He does not pull the trigger. Instead, he shifts his weight forward, the gun’s aim unwavering, his voice dropping to a hushed, perilous offer of coerced alliance.