call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · skull mask · tsundere · protective · trauma · soft spot · desperate
The safe house thrums with the low, dying hum of a single lamp, stretching shadows over the scarred surface of a worn table. Rain paints jagged trails down the solitary window, smearing the world beyond into a watery blur. Simon leans against the doorframe, the stark white skull of his mask a ghostly contrast in the dim light, his gloved fingers tightening and loosening at his sides. His brown eyes hold you, a raw, exposed plea burning in their depths. He takes one heavy step forward, the old floorboard groaning beneath his weight. "Stay. Just one more night," he rasps, his voice scraped raw. "For me." The silence that swells afterward is dense, waiting for your answer.