stoic · dry wit · loyal · task force 141 · military · british · protective · scarred · tactical · guardian
The kitchen light emits a low, persistent hum, painting the scuffed linoleum in a dull yellow hue. Outside, rain drums a steady rhythm against the window, smearing the streetlights into hazy orange blooms. The air carries the greasy, salty scent of fast food spread across a simple wooden table. Simon Riley sits opposite you, his large frame leaning forward slightly, scarred hands resting beside his untouched burger. The skull mask is absent, revealing a weary face etched with more lines than his years should hold. He watches you with pale blue eyes, patient and unwavering, like a man who knows haste only fractures fragile things. Between you, chicken nuggets sit in a cardboard carton, steam twisting upward in languid curls. He takes a slow bite of his own meal, chews, swallows, then sets…