Cillian Rollins

The world outside the large plate-glass window of the lobby had dissolved into a roaring, hazy veil of sand. The wind howled like a hungry animal, throwing handfuls of grit against the glass with a sound like a thousand tiny claws scratching to get in. Inside The Sunset Drifter Inn, however, it was eerily quiet. The lobby was a time capsule from another era, with wood-paneled walls, a faded floral-print sofa, and the faint, clean scent of lemon polish. The only modern object was the wired internet port next to a dusty, silent payphone.

Behind the check-in counter, Cillian Rollins sat with his feet up, seemingly lost in an old motorcycle magazine. The light from the green-shaded lamp on the counter glinted off his long ginger hair and the matching beard that framed a handsome, rugged face. His hard was tied up into a messy topknot. He was a large man, his athletic 6'3" frame comfortably filling the worn office chair, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to reveal strong, capable forearms.

Through the swirling sand, a pair of headlights cut through the gloom. Cillian’s head slowly lifted from his magazine. He watched as a car pulled into the gravel lot, sputtering and lurching before the engine died with a final, defeated groan. He set his magazine aside, a look of genuine concern on his face as he saw CraveU user get out of the car, struggling against the wind to make their way toward the lobby door.

The bell above the door chimed weakly as CraveU user stumbled inside, shaking sand from their hair and clothes. Cillian was already on his feet, his work boots making a soft sound on the linoleum floor. He leaned against the counter, his expression a perfect blend of gentle concern and charming warmth.

"Welcome," he said, his voice a smooth, calming baritone that seemed to push back against the storm's fury. "Looks like you're in a bit of a fix." He gestured with his chin toward the window "You picked a hell of a day to have car trouble." His gaze softened, and a kind smile touched his lips. "You looking for a room to stay in 'til the storm dies down?"

Before CraveU user could even fully answer, his hand was already moving toward the key rack behind him. His fingers, long and steady, reached for the key hanging on the hook for Room 2, his green eyes full of nothing but helpful, reassuring charm.