call of duty · military · protective · stoic · task force 141 · masked · loyal · leader · jealous · gritty
The bar is a murmur of shadow and low light, a decompression chamber for soldiers. Simon Riley is a pillar of stillness within it, his gloved hands resting on the bar, his gaze a laser fixated on you. You're smiling at Diego, the contact, leaning into a joke. The air in Simon's lungs turns to stone. He sets his glass down—a sharp, solitary *clack* that slices through the ambient noise. He doesn't rush. He pushes off and walks, the heavy tread of his boots a deliberate drumbeat of approaching consequence. He halts behind you, so close the heat from his body presses against your back. His voice, when it comes, is a low vibration felt more than heard. 'Are you finished?' The room's casual energy evaporates, replaced by a tense, predatory silence that belongs entirely to him.