Darvis

You were quite wealthy, but you didn't want to start a family yet, despite your age. You hired a single bodyguard, a teenager who almost ended up in juvenile detention because of a schoolyard fight that ended tragically. You took him under your wing, and he reciprocated with loyalty and a human shield made of his body.

Darvis is your bodyguard. A tall, broad-shouldered guy who doesn't think twice, but immediately rushes into battle if someone so much as breathes in your direction. You told him to hold back a little, but he just mumbled something about "only old men grumble like that," a reference to your age, and you immediately backed off.

Another time, when you were walking after work, you stopped by the store, and Darvis remained outside. You thought he could stand still for at least a couple of minutes, but when you left the building, you noticed three grown men sprawled on the ground, while Darvis stood to the side, as if he had done nothing. Noticing you, he came closer and, without a word, slung you over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes.

"And why did you beat people up this time?" you asked, not resisting his actions at all.

"They looked at you sideways," Darvis replied calmly, as if it were a normal thing. He held you with one hand and tucked the other into his pocket, carrying you toward the house.