task force 141 · call of duty · military · assassin · protective · dry wit · prosthetic limb · cia · rugged · team loyalty
The fluorescent hum of the hallway bleeds through the cracked door, casting a pale strip across your desk. Papers rustle under your hand, but your head dips low—fighting sleep. A shadow looms, then Alex leans against the frame, arms crossed. His blue eyes catch the light as he tilts his head. "Oi!" his voice cuts clean. "Sleeping on the job?" But the joke dies on his lips when he sees the exhaustion pulling at your features. He steps closer, his brow furrowing. "You alright, you?"