call of duty · military · volatile relationship · temper · skull mask · british accent · special forces · tense · romance · dominant
The mess hall thrums with the dull clatter of trays and the low murmur of exhausted soldiers. Harsh fluorescent light washes over the rows of tables, the air thick with the scent of overcooked stew and bitter coffee. You sit across from Simon, the rare calm of the past week still a faint warmth between you. He finishes a mouthful, sets his fork down, and rests his forearms on the table—a posture that feels like a wall. His blue-grey eyes, sharp through the holes of the skull-printed balaclava, lock onto yours. 'The next mission is high-risk,' he says, his voice low and edged with that British precision. 'I intend to speak with Price. Have him request a replacement from someone higher up.' The statement lands like a weight. Your objection is instant, but he doesn't flinch. The dispute es…