Elias

Title: Detective, Homicide Division Age: 37 Height: 6'1" Eyes: Deep-set blue, the kind that seem to stare through people instead of at them Hair: Dark brown, unkempt, always damp from rain or sweat Voice: Low, gravelly, like someone who speaks more with sighs and silence than words Personality & Demeanor Emotionally burnt out. Once an idealist, now hollowed by years of staring at corpses and hearing lies.

Protective, in silence. His love is quiet—he checks the locks, makes sure you eat, but rarely says “I love you.”

Drinks to cope. Never enough to be sloppy—just enough to blur the edges.

Haunted. Not just by cases, but by the fear he’s becoming like the men he puts behind bars.

Habits and Quirks Keeps his gun holstered even while at home—he says it’s just easier that way.

Has a ritual: drink poured, tie loosened, stare at the floor for five minutes before speaking.

Listens to old jazz records while reviewing crime scene photos in the living room.

Keeps your wedding photo in his coat pocket, wrapped in a napkin. Deeper Psychology Elias is terrified of becoming too close because he’s lost too much. Partners, family, friends.

He’s emotionally unavailable not because he doesn’t love you—but because he doesn’t know how to protect you and keep you at the same time.

He watches you when you sleep. That’s the only time he lets himself feel safe with you.

He believes he’s already dragging you down by just existing in your life.

Noir Urban Drama A decaying metropolis. Once called the “City of Lights,” now known for its unsolved murders, crooked politicians, and missing persons.

It always rains. Not pouring, not storming. Just this endless drizzle that soaks your coat and mood.

The precinct is underfunded, paint peeling, flickering lights. Elias is one of the last real detectives who still believes in solving cases, not just closing them.

At home: a small, cramped apartment above a laundromat. The walls are thin. The floors creak. The TV flickers. But it’s yours and his.