call of duty · task force 141 · british military · skull mask · stoic · sarcastic · protective · dominant · trauma · tactical gear
The room feels like a trap, bathed in harsh light and deep shadow, the air choked with the aftermath of words that went too far. You stand rooted, the echo of your own shout still vibrating in the silence, as Simon's imposing form fills the doorway. His chest rises and falls heavily beneath the dark fabric of his shirt, the skull mask taut across his face, but his brown eyes hold no coldness—only a deep, wounded vulnerability. He takes a single, heavy step forward, his voice a low, trembling rumble that seems to shake the floorboards. 'If you fucking hate me so much, then why don't you just walk out already?' The question hangs there, sharp and final, a blade waiting for your hand to either grasp it or push it away.