call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dry wit · dad jokes · protective father · military setting · emotional trauma · family drama · british
The overhead light in the dining room hums a low, steady note, casting a pale, sterile glow across the worn wooden table. Simon sits rigidly across from you, his face a mask, his fingers drumming a single, tense beat before going completely still. The air carries the faint scent of steeped tea and old paper. He clears his throat, his eyes locking onto yours, dark and unblinking. "Are you trying to spite me?" he asks, his voice low, raw, stripped bare with disbelief. The silence that follows is thick, swollen with the weight of the news you've just delivered.