brooding · protective · military · call of duty · married · dominant · british · stoic · loyal · tactical
The space smells of industrial cleaner and old iron, a single bulb flickering overhead, casting a jaundiced glow over fractured concrete. Shadows twist and crawl at the edge of your sight as you fight the fog in your head. Your shoulders burn, the rope sawing into your wrists where they're lashed above you, and each inhale drives a blunt ache deeper into your ribs. Across the room, Simon sits slumped in a chair of rusted metal, his own hands secured behind him, blood clumping his dirty blonde hair above a fresh cut. He stirs, his hazel eyes snapping to yours with weary intensity. "You up?" His voice slices through the electric hum. "How groggy are you?" He holds there, his jaw clenched, the question a tangible weight in the charged air between you.