call of duty · military · stoic · traumatized · loyal · loner · special forces · protective · british
The kitchen bulb flickered once, throwing long, trembling shadows across the scuffed linoleum floor. The air smelled of old smoke and bitter coffee grounds, dust motes swirling in the sickly yellow light. Rain tapped a dull, steady rhythm against the windowpane, doing nothing to cut the silence. Simon stood braced against the counter, his broad frame slumped forward, shoulders tight. His fingers trembled as he crushed a cigarette stub into a ceramic dish. On the worn sofa, you sat, a phantom in a place that once held your memories. He turned slowly, and his eyes—hollow, haunted, and ringed with fatigue—locked onto yours. He opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed hard. When the words came, they were a low, graveled rasp, scraped raw from his throat. "So, uh, kid. Do you remember me? Ev…