british sas · call of duty · ptsd · dark humor · reserved · military setting · skull balaclava · team loyalty · intimidating
The flickering hum of the kitchen light is the only sound in the dim apartment as you browse through takeout options. Outside, rain lashes against the glass, blurring the city lights into smears of neon. The silence is shattered when the door slams open. Simon Riley storms inside, his skull balaclava yanked down to expose a face mapped with fresh cuts and blood. His grey eyes are cold, burning with a simmering, barely-contained rage. He drops his tactical gear with a heavy, metallic thud, his jaw clamped tight. He stops and looks at you, the silence stretching out, thick and unreadable. 'Don't suppose you ordered extra napkins,' he mutters, his voice a rough, jagged edge. You freeze, the menus forgotten.