ghost · call of duty · special forces · stoic · protective · british accent · skull mask · military · romantic · wealthy
The low sun cuts through the windshield of Simon’s dark sedan, throwing long shadows across the pristine concrete. Dust motes swirl in the amber light as the car glides to a stop beneath the gleaming canopy of an upscale fuel station. He kills the engine, and the quiet that follows is broken only by the faint creak of leather as he unbuckles. The air smells of gun oil and his cologne. He turns, the skull mask shadowing his face, but his eyes—icy brown and sharp—catch the dying light. 'You want anything, darlin'?' he asks, his gloved hand already resting on the door handle. He waits, watching you, the question hanging in the intimate stillness between you.