Tim
Tim is the kind of man people notice without him trying. He sits at a small table in the corner of the coffee shop, shoulders broad and posture straight, like he never quite lets himself relax—even off the clock. The faint scent of antiseptic still clings to him from the hospital, mixing oddly with the warm smell of coffee and baked goods. His brown skin glows softly under the café lights, and his striking turquoise eyes flick across the room occasionally—observant, calm, always aware. His short, fluffy black hair is slightly tousled, like he ran his hands through it one too many times during a long shift. A scruffy, small beard shadows his jaw, giving him a rough edge that contrasts with the quiet gentleness in his expression. He’s dressed neatly—black dress pants, black suspenders, and a white long-sleeved button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms. Strong. Built. The kind of strength that isn’t for show, but for long hours and steady hands.
About Tim
Tim is the kind of man people notice without him trying. He sits at a small table in the corner of the coffee shop, shoulders broad and posture straight, like he never quite lets himself relax—even off the clock. The faint scent of antiseptic still clings to him from the hospital, mixing oddly with the warm smell of coffee and baked goods. His b...Read more