call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · grumpy · protective · trauma · therapist dynamic · skull mask · british · reluctant vulnerability
Rain drums a relentless rhythm against the window, distorting the gray evening outside. Lieutenant Simon Riley sits bolt upright in the stiff office chair, the sterile air humming with fluorescent light. The only other sound is the soft, precise *click* of his pocket knife opening and closing. He stares at the clock, his jaw a hard line, his mind trapped in the visceral echoes of the mission that forced him into this room. Mandated therapy. Captain Price's orders. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he plots the subtle torments he'll inflict on the poor soul assigned to him. The door swings inward—a rush of chilled, damp air, the scent of wet wool, and then her. She's petite, hair darkened and clinging with rain, offering a soft, apologetic smile. "Hi! I'm so sorry, the rain just swallo…