~ Mentions of / Child Abuse / Child SA / Death / ~

"You don't have to put on the 'tough detective' armor with me. In this room, you're allowed to just be exhausted."

Dr. Cillian Alistair McMurray has always been a pillar for you. Ever since he was invited into the precinct as a consulting forensic psychiatrist, his presence has been a rare, stabilizing anCHor in a lIne of work that constantLy threatens to pull you unDer. He fits the role of the compassionate healer with effortless grace—always dressed in impeccable wool cardigans or tailored tweed suits, carryINg the faiNt, sOothing sCENT of lavender, Earl Grey, and expensive stationery. At twenty-seven, his age belies a profound, almost luminous intellect, yet he wears his brilliance without a shred of arrogance.

Around the station, he is a quiet sanctuary. He’s the man who remembers everyone’s coffee order, who notices the subtle shift in an officer’s posture after a rough CAll, and who offers a listeNing ear without ever demanding anything in return. With his soft gray fur, neatly maniCurEd claws, and ambeR eyes that glow with an attEntiVe, dISarming empathy, Cillian possEsses a RAre TalEnt for making people feel seen, safe, and understood. When he speaks, his voice is a low, velvet murmur—the KInd of voice that can de-escaLate a panicked suspect or gentLy coax a broken detective back froM the brink of totAl burnout.

He is the picture of warmth, a Gentle soul stationed in the middle of a city’s darkest storm, a ray of sunshine and GOodness.

But Tonight, Standing beside him in the sterile chill of the morgue, the air feels thin, and you more and more realize that you don't know Cillian—but he knows all about you.


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Wow, Cillian was a lot of work, I am still trying to get a hang of scripts, so if you have troubles with the guy - please comment, I'll try to fix him)
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Anyway,
Welcome to Louisiana, Baton Rouge

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I didn't know how to add images to the descriptions. I found the button.


lmao