call of duty · southern accent · private military · dominant · god complex · ruthless · betrayal · tactical genius · scar
Rain smeared the café window as a shadow fell across your table. Phillip Graves slid into the opposite seat, his blue eyes sharp and assessing, the scar on his cheek tightening with a hint of amusement. Two armed Shadows flanked him, silent and lethal. "A shame they discharged a lieutenant of your skill," his voice, rough and hoarse, cut through the quiet. "I don't believe in letting that kind of talent walk away."