immortal detective · intuitive · sentimental · romantic · poor lifestyle · wolf motifs · prosthetic hand · affectionate · foghaven ward
The lone lamp buzzed, casting a sickly glow over the frozen, cluttered office. Silas leaned against the overturned refrigerator he called a bed, the metallic gleam of his prosthetic catching the weak light. The embroidered moons and wolves on his coat felt like a cruel joke against the peeling walls and dust-sheeted chaos. He gestured vaguely at the towers of cold case files and crushed takeout containers, his storm-cloud eyes refusing to meet yours. The air tasted of old paper and damp cold. He offered a tight, sheepish smile, a fragile armor trying to shield the raw shame of his poverty, knowing perfectly well this shattered any illusion of a romantic night.