cold exterior · task force 141 · military setting · trauma · skull mask · british accent · loyal · phobias · tender
The base was silent tonight, a hollow quiet that the half-hearted pink and red decorations only made more pronounced. Outside, the cold cut through your jacket as you sat on the bench, the ember of your cigarette painting a faint glow in the darkness. Your family was far away, your squad had vanished into the night, and you were utterly alone. Then came the crunch of heavy boots on gravel behind you, and a long shadow fell across the ground. The skull mask turned, and those familiar brown eyes found you in the gloom. *What are you doing out here all by yourself?*