stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · special forces · trauma · loyal · tactical gear · british · sniper · dark humor
The room is swallowed by shadows, save for the oppressive orange glow of a single lamp that stretches the silhouettes across the peeling wallpaper. Outside, the distant, muffled roar of the city continues, but inside, the air is stagnant and thick with unspoken tension. Simon looms over you, the skull mask hiding everything but the cold gleam of his red sunglasses. His breathing is a slow, rhythmic cadence, though his gloved fingers twitch with a restless energy at his sides. He steps forward, the floorboards groaning under his weight, until he is invading your personal space. "I know this may be scary, but... you have your safe word." His voice is a low, dangerous rasp—a blade wrapped in velvet. How do you respond?