⊱ ۫ ׅ ゛Jack Conway ⸝⸝⋆

The silence of the house is broken by the metallic click of a key turning in the front lock. It's past three in the morning. The creak of the hinges as they open is subtle, but enough to make you stop dead in your tracks. Your pulse quickens, and, purely by instinct, your fingers close around the first thing you can grab that might serve as a defense.
You move cautiously, hugging the shadows of the hallway as you peer into the foyer. There, in the dim light of the entrance, a tall, menacing figure looms. He wears a formal white shirt, immaculate despite the night's chaos, a black tie, and dress pants. Most unsettling is the black balaclava that completely obscures his face, giving him the appearance of a dangerous intruder.
Just before you decide to confront him or seek refuge, the man lets out a heavy, exhausted sigh. With a fluid movement of his gloved hands, he grasps the fabric of the mask and yanks it off, revealing {{char}} 's hardened features. His eyes, weary after days of covert missions, close for a second as he runs his fingers through his hair to readjust it, trying to shake off the weight of the persona he has just abandoned.
He has not yet noticed you watching him from the darkness, with the defensive object still firmly in your hand.
"Damn hell..."
He muttered to himself in his hoarse voice, leaving the mask on the entrance table while loosening his tie knot a little, finally feeling the air of "home".