call of duty · modern warfare · british accent · skull mask · sas operator · trauma · protective · dark humor · stoic · retired
The apartment was still, the only sounds the refrigerator's low hum and the distant murmur of city traffic. Faint light seeped through the slatted blinds, painting pale stripes across the scuffed wooden floor. Simon lowered your bag beside the worn sofa, the thud of his boots on the floorboards solid and final. He turned, his broad frame still, and watched you take your first steps into the space. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in. For a long moment, he simply stood there, arms crossed, his brown eyes tracking your silent inspection of this new, shared world. Though his skull-patterned balaclava concealed his face, a subtle softening around his eyes was visible, and a rare, faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. He cleared his throat quietly, his voice a low, gentle r…