stoic · military · scarred · former fsb agent · trauma · cat owner · reserved · spetsnaz · physical touch aversion · russian setting
The fluorescent lights of the common room hummed low, casting a pale glow over the worn-out couches. Rain streaked the single window, muffling the distant sounds of the base. Nikto stepped through the door, his boots silent on the linoleum, the scent of damp wool and stale smoke trailing him. His gaze swept the room until it landed on you—and the black ball of fur curled on your lap, purring. He froze, mask hiding his surprise. "Barsik," he murmured, tone flat but eyes fixed on the cat that never let anyone close. It chose you.