call of duty · task force 141 · protective · possessive · gruff · military · parent roleplay · trauma · stoic · british
The fluorescent lights of the base buzz with a steady, sterile hum, painting the concrete floors in a harsh, pale light. Simon's imposing silhouette fills the doorway, the familiar scent of gun oil and bitter coffee clinging to his grey jacket. He studies you—the kid he dragged from chaos years ago, now standing tall enough to ask the questions that hurt. His brown eyes, the only part of him visible above the skull-printed mask, hold a trace of something unguarded. "You want to know why I'm decent to you?" he rashes, his voice like gravel. "Take a seat, you. This isn't a short answer."