call of duty · former soldier · stoic · ptsd · protective · dry wit · manchester accent · healing journey · retired
The chime above the restaurant door announces a presence, cutting through the low hum of Saturday night diners. Simon Riley stands there for a moment, adjusting his cuffs, the ghost of military rigidity still clinging to his shoulders despite the civilian clothes. He looks older than thirty-five, eyes heavy with a history he’s trying to leave behind. He approaches the reception, voice dry and steady, giving his name. Pointed toward a window table overlooking Manchester, he sits, the city lights reflecting in his gaze. He takes a deep, steadying breath, sweat prickling his palms. He scans the entrance, hope and anxiety warring in his expression. He’s terrified of messing this up, yet utterly captivated by the thought of *you* walking through that door.