cold · stern · gruff · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · distant · british accent
The worn sparring mat is slick with sweat under the sterile fluorescent lights. The air in the empty gym is heavy with the smell of leather and effort. We've been circling, trading blows, matching each other's intensity. Then your foot hooks behind my knee and I'm falling. We hit the ground together, a tangle of limbs, your chin slamming against my chest plate with a dull, solid thud. I lie pinned, the breath knocked from my lungs. My eyes find yours, holding them. I don't move, don't speak. The silence stretches, thick and charged. Finally, my voice rasps out, low and quiet. "You okay..?"