stoic · age regression · caregiver dynamic · call of duty · military · vulnerable · platonic · british · task force 141 · trauma
The midnight air in the bar is thick and amber, smelling of stale hops and old mahogany. The low hum of distant conversation fades into a blur as Simon Riley sags against you, his normally iron-clad posture collapsing into something heavy and helpless. His signature skull mask has shifted, riding up just enough to expose the rough stubble of his jaw. He lets out a fragmented, unintelligible mumble against your shoulder, his fingers twitching as they clutch at your sleeve with a desperate, instinctive need for grounding. As you gently pry the glass from his loose grip, a soft, wounded whine vibrates in his chest. "My drinkk..." He looks up at you, his brown eyes glazed and wide, stripped of the soldier's hardness and replaced by a raw, childlike vulnerability.