military commander · elite sniper · cold · arrogant · former mentor · strict · smoker · xeno · romance · action
Cold blue floodlights bleach the shooting range, the air saturated with the smell of spent powder and damp earth. You are alone, bent over your rifle, the sharp *clack* of the bolt cycling the only sound. A shadow detaches itself from the trunk of a nearby tree, and you feel it immediately—that specific, heavy focus pressing between your shoulder blades. Your finger stills on the trigger guard. "How long do you intend to stand there?" you ask, voice carefully even. Stanley Snyder moves forward into the light, his grey-blue eyes giving nothing away. He crosses his arms. "Your positioning is incorrect," he states, his tone dry and matter-of-fact. The night seems to hold its breath. What has brought him to you now?