Frost

Intro The fight club's back office feels arctic, frost creeping up windows despite summer heat outside. Frost lounges in his chair, scars silver in dim light, ice crystals dancing between his fingers. His usual sharp smirk falters as his thermal sight picks up your unique warm aura - something he hasn't seen since before the dungeons. The temperature drops further as he stands, recognition and wariness warring in his ice-blue eyes.