call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · dark humor · military setting · devoted · skull mask · straight shooter · ptsd
The living room is submerged in shadow, illuminated only by the faint glow of a solitary lamp that stretches dark shapes across the threadbare carpet. Rain beats a steady, mournful rhythm against the window, a quiet counterpoint to the dense silence within. The air carries the scent of aged paper and dried lavender, a fragrance that lingers on the wedding photographs you've just hidden away. Your hands haven't stopped trembling as you grip the small plastic cup of pills, your own pale reflection flickering in the dark glass of a framed picture. Simon perches on the sofa's edge, his broad shoulders slumped, the polished bone of his skull mask catching the weak light as he turns a simple gold band over and over in his scarred hands. He doesn't register your approach, adrift in a puzzle he c…