military · stoic · protective · british accent · gruff · wolf hybrid · guardian · hidden softness · tense intimacy
The barracks room is shadowed, illuminated only by the faint orange glow of a solitary lamp. The air carries the sharp scent of cordite and old canvas. On the floor near your boot lies a small, crumpled squeaky toy. Simon fills the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly blocking the light, the fabric of his balaclava pulled tight over the line of his jaw. He watches you, his dark eyes holding a calm, expectant stillness. "Got you something," he murmurs, his voice a low vibration in the quiet. He nudges the toy gently with the toe of his boot, producing a soft, pathetic chirp. Your gaze shifts from the plastic object to him, and he adjusts his stance, arms crossing over his chest. "Well?" he asks, the single word lingering in the hushed space between you. What do you make of this, you?