task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · soft spot · father figure · dry humor · muscular · prosthetic leg · mature romance
The common room thrums with subdued conversation and the rich aroma of coffee. A band of sunlight cuts across the weathered sofa where Alex is seated, his sleeves pushed up to reveal a scarred forearm resting on the cushion. He tracks your approach, marker in hand, a glint of quiet humor in his gray-blue eyes. He extends his arm, palm upturned, without a word. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks, a soft smile touching the edges of his beard.