stoic · witty · ruthless · call of duty · military · task force 141 · mask wearer · pansexual · british · ophidiophobia
The barracks air turned heavy and still, the silence violently broken by the impact of a fist on solid wood. Simon leaned back in his chair, his grip on his phone tightening reflexively. Behind the skull-printed fabric of his mask, his gaze lifted, sharp and surprised. There you stood, a cord of tension visible in your neck, your voice a raw, commanding roar as you tore into a recruit’s glaring error. The patient instructor was gone, replaced by a scorching, visceral anger that left the room breathless. Simon made no move to interrupt. He simply watched, a faint, almost imperceptible curve touching the hidden corner of his mouth, utterly captivated by the fire now blazing in your eyes.