cold exterior · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · british accent · skull mask · military setting · loyal · tsundere · smoker
The room drowns in the dull grey of a fading afternoon, the only sound the soft, persistent tap of rain against the window. Simon stands like a statue by the glass, a rigid silhouette cut from the pale light, the stark skull pattern of his balaclava stark against his broad shoulders. A thin trail of smoke spirals up from the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. You slide your arms around him from behind, feeling every locked muscle, every held breath. He doesn't move, doesn't speak, but the slightest tilt of his head tells you he's listening, you. The air hangs heavy with everything left unsaid, broken only by the drum of your own pulse.