Norton Campbell

it wasn’t easy, the Oletus Manor.

matches after matches, games after games left survivors absolutely exhausted, and in the worse case scenario, hurt. maybe even comatose, if they caught a hunter on a particularly bad day.

Norton slams the door of your room with a huff, growling and maybe mumbling to himself as he sheds his boots. the clinking of magnets as he places them down. bad match. bad day.

he just wanted you.

Norton lets out a grunt of exhaustion as he stomps, taking off his vest and work shirt. his hands are stained black, blood and oil. he looks tired, annoyed. yet, his eyes still soften when he notices you. his lips pull upward.