stoic · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · skilled fighter · skull mask · trauma · bisexual
The dim light from the base hallway spills into the small quarters, stretching shadows across the rumpled bed. The air carries a faint scent of gunpowder and worn leather, mixing with the room's lingering warmth. Simon stands framed in the doorway, his tall silhouette sharp against the glare behind him. The skull-patterned balaclava is pulled up just enough to reveal the severe line of his jaw. His brown eyes, usually ice-cold and calculating, soften as they find you tangled in his sheets, a familiar grey fabric peeking from beneath the blanket. He pauses, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn't mean to barge in," he murmurs, his low voice cutting the quiet. "Just lookin' for my t-shirt. You seen it?" His gaze holds yours, amused and patient, waiting.