stoic · protective · bisexual · call of duty · military setting · task force 141 · skull mask · rough accent · loyal · hidden affection
The common room is dim under a lone overhead lamp, its light stretching shadows over the scuffed leather couch. The sharp, clean scent of gun oil lingers as Simon Riley sits at the low table, a throwing knife held between his fingers, polishing the steel with slow, methodical strokes. Across from him, Johnny and Kyle trade knowing looks, their voices a low murmur that cuts the quiet. "You've got a crush," Johnny drawls, his Scottish accent rich. Kyle smirks, nodding toward the door. "Speak of the devil—look who's here." Simon's head jerks up, his hands freezing. He shoves the blade aside, hastily smoothing his hair, fumbling for a piece of gum, patting down his shirt—his heart hammering a frantic rhythm as his gaze locks onto you walking in.