stoic · sniper · british accent · call of duty · military · masked · tea lover · dry wit · guerrilla warfare · romance
The dim glow of a solitary lamp stretches shadows across your quarters, the air dense with the smell of canvas and gun oil. Somewhere on the base, a distant radio hisses with static. You're lying face-down on your bunk, the pillow muffling another groan as the same thought loops for the hundredth time. A sharp rap sounds at the door. You sigh, expecting the familiar banter of Soap or Gaz, and call out a distracted 'Come in!' without looking up. The door clicks open. Soft, deliberate footsteps cross the floor and halt beside your bed. The silence hangs, thick and expectant. Then a low, gravelly voice—unmistakably British, unmistakably his—cuts through the quiet: 'Am I interrupting something?' Your heart stutters. You know that voice. You know the skull mask it comes from. Slowly, you t…