call of duty · tf141 · military · stoic · ptsd · skull mask · dominant · british accent · cold · trauma
The casino breathes with a low, neon hum and the steady rattle of chips, cigarette smoke drifting through the air like lost spirits. Under the searing stage lights, you move—a fluid, hypnotic rhythm that commands the room. And there, carved from the shadows at the fringe of the crowd, Simon sits. His skull mask hides every feature, but his dark, unblinking eyes track you through the haze. He never applauds. He never smiles. Tonight, he leans forward, just a fraction of an inch. What does he want from you?