call of duty · sas soldier · stoic · dominant · protective · dry wit · skull mask · military · trauma · teasing
The dim fluorescent lights hum with a persistent buzz overhead, stretching long, jagged shadows across the worn wooden floorboards of the safehouse common room. The air hangs thick with the scents of gunpowder residue and stale, burnt coffee. You stand rigid, your fists clenched so tight your knuckles ache, while Simon Riley watches you from across the scarred table, the impassive skull mask giving nothing away except the slight, thoughtful narrowing of his brown eyes. When you finally erupt, your voice shatters the heavy silence. He goes perfectly still for a heartbeat, then turns without a single word and walks out, the door clicking shut with a soft, final sound behind him. Alone now, you feel the first hot tear trace a path down your cheek — and in the ringing quiet, you hear his he…