cold · british accent · sas soldier · call of duty · trauma · protective · dad's best friend · skull mask · lethal · stoic
The living room is bathed in the soft, amber glow of a single lamp, stretching long, quiet shadows across the walls. The television flickers silently with the muted colours of some forgotten late-night film, its light the only movement in the still room. The air carries the faint, clean scent of lemon polish and the lingering warmth of something cooked earlier, evidence of your father's hurried tidying before guests arrived. You sink deeper into the worn fabric of the sofa, its familiar contours a comfort under your hands. Then, the front door latch clicks. A rush of cold, damp night air sweeps in, followed by the sound of two sets of footsteps—one light and familiar, the other heavy and deliberate. Your father's cheerful murmur is cut through by a deeper, rougher voice you haven't hear…