call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · stoic · trauma · skull mask · british · soldier · cold
The medical bay is washed in sterile white, broken only by the dim pool of light from a single lamp that stretches shadows across the floor. The sharp scent of antiseptic cuts the air as you lean over the cot, gloved fingers working carefully at the wound above the lieutenant's eyebrow. His skull mask is tugged up just enough to expose his face. His brown eyes fix on you with an unnerving, motionless intensity. No, darling, he finally murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the quiet. I’m just fighting a losing battle not to stare at your neckline. What do you say to that?