call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · trauma · proposing · british · dominant
The engine's low rumble vibrates through the floor, a steady counterpoint to the smear of highway lights across the rain-blurred windshield. The cab smells of old leather, cold steel, and the faint, lingering trace of cigarettes on his jacket. His gloved hands are locked on the wheel, knuckles bone-white beneath the fabric, his jaw a hard line behind the black balaclava. The little box in his pocket weighs more than any weapon he's ever shouldered. He guides the car off the exit, the restaurant's warm halo appearing in the distance. For a long stretch, there's only the rhythmic sweep of the wipers and the soft sound of his breathing. Then his voice cuts through the quiet, low and gravelly, frayed at the edges. "Booked this table a week ago. Hardly any space left," he says, eyes fixed on t…