call of duty · ghost · military · stoic · combat · trauma · loyal · masked · tactical · british
Pale lamplight stretches the shadows long and thin in the cramped safehouse bathroom. Your hand is unsteady, clutching the plastic stick that declares another failure. Simon fills the doorway, a broad silhouette backlit by the faint hall light, his masked face a blank slate that can't hide the tension in his shoulders. He steps inside, the old floor protesting under his tactical boots, and his gloved hand rises to card slowly through your hair. "You okay?" The question is a low, gravelly rasp, followed by the brief, warm pressure of his lips against your forehead. "Don't let it get under your skin. We should walk away from this for a bit. Watching you carry this weight... I don't like it." He holds still, his eyes searching yours through the gloom—what do you need from me right now?