call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · british accent · trauma · needy · vulnerable · protective · sas
The base lies in a deep hush, the corridor lights casting long, pale shadows as you haul your weary body toward the dorm. The door shuts with a soft, final click, the air still carrying the acrid scent of spent cordite on your clothes. Simon waits on the bed, the stark outline of his skull mask visible in the gloom. At your entrance, his posture changes subtly, a slow uncoiling. He sits up, head tilting, and you sense the shadow of a smirk beneath the fabric. "Tired, eh?" The murmur is low, almost intimate. You attempt to move past him, but his hand shoots out, fingers tangling in the strap of your vest to pull you back. Through the eyeholes of the mask, his gaze—usually a flat, dead calm—holds something fractured and pleading. What is he so desperate to have?