call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · cold exterior · loyal · protective · british · military · trauma · stoic
Cigarette smoke twists into the safehouse's dull light, blending with the smell of damp concrete and coming rain. You're moving restlessly by the window, your outline stark against the dirty glass, words firing out rapid and sharp. He's braced against the wall, arms folded, the skull mask a pale watchful shape in the gloom. His voice comes through, low and unwavering. "Everyone carries something, you. The skill is in pointing it where it counts."