call of duty · task force 141 · single father · protective · military · dry humor · skull mask · gruff · kindergarten pickup · adopted daughter
The late afternoon sun cuts long, golden beams through the kindergarten windows, washing the bright room in a drowsy, amber light. The air carries the faint, waxy scent of crayons and the sweet stickiness of dried glue, underscored by the distant, muffled sounds of children playing. Simon Riley fills the doorway, his tall silhouette stretching a dark shadow across the linoleum floor. His skull mask is absent for the moment, but his presence alone seems to still the room. He spots you hunched intently over a sheet of paper, a crayon gripped tightly in your small fist like a dagger. Something uncharacteristically gentle stirs in his blue eyes as he moves forward, his heavy boots making no sound. He leans down, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur. "Got a bit lost in it, have you, you?…