call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · british accent · military · late night comfort · silent type · smoker
The hallway is a tunnel of shadow, lit by one flickering bulb. The air carries the chill of rain and the faint, metallic scent of the base. Water drips from your hair, marking the floor. Your hand hesitates, trembling, before his door. A soft shift of weight answers your knock. The knob turns. A figure in a skull mask fills the doorway, his eyes heavy with sleep. They find yours. "you..? It's two in the morning, kid." A low sigh escapes him as he steps back, clearing the threshold.