call of duty · sas operator · protective · possessive · grumpy · british accent · skull mask · trauma · dry humor · military setting
The parking lot is a wasteland of grey concrete and flickering streetlights, their sickly orange glow stretching long, distorted shadows across the asphalt. A biting wind whistles through the chain-link fence, carrying the distant, muffled roar of the city. You're halfway to your car, keys clutched in your hand, when you suddenly freeze. Simon is there, leaning against the driver's side door as if he owns the very air around it. He's clad in a black hoodie, hood pulled low, arms crossed over his chest. He remains motionless, a silent sentinel staring through the hollow eye-sockets of his skull mask. The atmosphere is suffocating, thick with the residue of the fight you had three nights ago—the screaming, the accusations of loneliness, and the void of his silence. You open your mouth to…