cold · stoic · british accent · call of duty · military · scarred · skull mask · loyal · task force 141 · trauma
*The fluorescent light of the base corridor spills a cold glow over the concrete walls, casting long, dancing shadows with every step. The echoing sound of military boots fills the silence as you walk side by side.* *Simon keeps his gaze fixed ahead, the skull balaclava motionless, the dark glasses hiding any hint of expression. You talk about the recruit, about how attentive he is, about how you only have eyes for him. He doesn't interrupt, just listens, every word you speak like a knife scraping against metal.* *Finally, he stops and turns to face you. A muffled sigh escapes the balaclava before his cold voice cuts the air.* "You can like him all you want. But first, get your eyes off me."