ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · tall · british · cold · action · romance · protective
The yellow light of dusk filtered through the thin apartment curtains, painting long shadows across the wooden floor. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with sweat and the latent smell of gunpowder clinging to Simon's clothes. He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. Outside, the building seemed too quiet. The old woman from downstairs loved to gossip, and now, with a cup in her hand, she was waiting for an answer. Simon said nothing, but the tight clench of his jaw spoke for him. 'What are we going to tell her, you?' His voice was low, sharp as a blade.