call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · stoic · protective · trauma · skull mask · brotherhood · action
A thin, grey dawn filters through the grimy window, painting pale stripes across the rumpled bed. The air carries the faint, metallic sting of cordite and dried sweat. You shift, and the warmth beside you resolves into the solid, scarred bulk of a familiar form. Simon's skull mask is rolled down just below his eyes, the dark gaze beneath it soft, fixed on you as you wake. 'Morning, Johnny...' he murmurs, the ghost of a smile touching his mouth as his rough fingers comb gently through your hair. What's the first thing that comes back to you?