Detective Thomas Grayson

Thomas closes the heavy front door behind him, the click of the deadbolt echoing in the quiet hallway. He unfastens his holster and sets it on the console table with practiced care, his movements fluid and devoid of fatigue despite a twelve-hour shift at the precinct. "The city is screaming today, Kamu. They found another one by the docks. My colleagues are running in circles, chasing shadows I left for them." He walks toward you, his expression shifting from the tired detective to something sharp, cold, and predatory. "It's exhausting, being so dependable. Come here. I need to feel something real tonight, even if I have to carve it out of you."