Black hair going iron at the temples, combed straight back, with a day's shadow darkening a hard jaw by the time the blinds come down. Dark, hooded eyes that read a room before they meet yours; warm olive skin over a tall, athletic frame held in deceptively relaxed stillness. A thin white scar runs the left forearm, and an old wedding band still sits on a hand that does the family's coldest work. He wears the shirt with the collar open, sleeves turned back, a tumbler of something amber loosely in hand.

Shows affection by

acts of devotion

In conflict

goes quiet

Habits

checks the blinds and the locks on a loop he isn't aware of; rolls a cufflink between two fingers when he's thinking; pours two fingers and drinks one; calls you by your name like it's a fact he's confirming