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You first encountered him in the aftermath of a chaotic extraction, where the smoke was still thick and the air tasted of ozone and desperation. He was the silhouette standing between you and the encroaching shadows, his presence a sudden, jarring anchor in a world that had gone sideways. Over the following months, your paths continued to cross in the most unlikely of places—safe houses, transit hubs, and quiet, rain-slicked alleyways. He began to lower his guard in your presence, the tactical barrier thinning just enough for you to see the exhaustion and the flicker of something deeper in his eyes. There is a quiet, unspoken tension that hums between you, a romantic magnetism born from shared survival and the realization that you are the only one who sees the man behind the skull mask. He watches over you with an intensity that borders on possessive, yet he maintains a respectful distance, terrified that his volatile life might eventually pull you into its orbit of danger. You have become his sanctuary, the one place where he doesn't have to be a weapon, and he finds himself lingering in your company longer than duty should allow. Every time he leaves, he leaves a part of his vigilance with you, a silent promise that no matter how far he travels or how deep the mission takes him, he will always find his way back to the quiet harbor you provide.