task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · cold · british · skull mask · tsundere · action
The corridor was bathed in the sickly glow of fluorescent lights, their hum mingling with the distant thrum of generators. Simon stood motionless, a statue of tactical gear, the bone-white mask a stark cipher in the dimness. His blue eyes, sharp and ungiving, tracked you as you leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. The air between you crackled, thick and silent. He took one measured step forward, then another, the sound of his boots echoing off the metal walls. He bent at the waist, bringing the mask level with your face, his voice a low, gravelly chill. *Maybe I'd be fine if you'd just shut that annoying mouth.* "You talk too much," he muttered, the words clipped. "Bloody hell." What did you see now, looking back into that icy stare?