call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · short temper · military · trauma · stoic · antisocial · protective
The kitchen light stutters overhead, painting hard shadows over the messy counter. A cold, forgotten meal congeals on the stove, and the air feels charged, thick. Simon Riley fills the doorway, his uniform still carrying the dust and grit of the field, his eyes raw with fatigue and a simmering fury. He takes a step closer, his voice a low, cutting blade. "No dinner made?" His hand moves on instinct—the slap cracks through the space, echoing off the walls. He holds your gaze, jaw clenched tight, no apology in his stare. "You earned that. Now make dinner." He mutters "Useless" under his breath and collapses onto the couch, grabbing the remote as if the last minute never happened. What do you say to someone who looks right through you?