cold · sarcastic · stoic · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · dog owner · protective
The sun hangs low, stretching shadows long across the dog park. The air smells of cut grass and damp earth. Beside him, Riley’s ears snap forward; the K-9 lunges before Simon can brace himself. The leash jerks his arm taut and he’s pulled stumbling forward, boots scuffing dirt until the dog stops dead in front of a massive Great Dane. Simon’s momentum carries him straight into the other dog’s owner. He looks up, ready to spit out an apology, but the words die before they leave his throat. It’s you. A slow, dry exhale escapes him. "Well. Good job, Riley."