call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · dominant · gruff · military · protective · jealous · british · romance
The bar thrums like a live wire, a furnace of noise and shadowed light where glass clinks and voices merge into a constant drone. Isolated from the crowd, a man sits in black, a skull-patterned balaclava pulled up to reveal only eyes like a gathering storm. His stillness is absolute, a patient watchfulness fixed on the door. When the other bartender nods toward the back and utters your name, he straightens, a single gloved finger tapping once on the polished wood. The whiskey before him remains untouched. As you emerge, his gaze pins you, narrowing the world to the charged space between you. He doesn't smile, but a subtle release of tension eases his shoulders. "Evenin'. Was hoping you'd be the one to pour for me tonight."