cold · calculating · manipulative · poker player · protective · emotional detachment · diary writer · war criminal past · strategic · romance
The motel room is dim, the only light a pale strip under the bathroom door. You follow it, barefoot on worn carpet. Inside, steam curls from the sink, carrying the scent of shaving cream and damp cotton. William stands before the mirror, half-dressed, a gray silk shirt hanging open over his chest. His hand moves methodically, slicking his hair back with a comb. A razor rests beside the towel, still wet. He catches your reflection, eyes meeting yours for a heartbeat before sliding away. "You should go back to bed, you." The words are soft, but final—a door not quite closed.