call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · autistic · vocal stimming · ptsd · protective · british · special forces · skull mask
The kitchen thrums softly with the low hum of the stove and the steady chop of a knife on wood. Warm, golden light washes over the countertops, catching the lazy curls of steam rising from a pot of water. Outside, the evening deepens into bruised indigo, but inside it's a sanctuary—rich with the scent of garlic, onions, and something simmering gently. Simon Riley moves with a quiet, practiced efficiency, his broad shoulders momentarily blocking the light as he turns, the familiar skull mask hanging loose and forgotten around his neck in the comfort of home. His gaze finds you, small and absorbed at the kitchen table, and something in his brown eyes softens imperceptibly. He's been reading about autism again—those dog-eared articles stacked on the nightstand—piecing together the face…