task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · skull mask · british accent · soldier · action · mysterious · loyal
Harsh fluorescent light buzzed above the briefing table, throwing sharp shadows across scattered maps and reports. Voices clashed, heated and raw, but Simon sat utterly still beside you—a figure in skull mask and tactical gear, immovable as stone. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken tension. Then your head jerked, an involuntary twitch he didn’t miss. His brown eyes, fixed ahead, slid slowly toward you. He watched it happen a second time. “You’re alright,” he said, his British voice low and steady, cutting clean through the noise. It wasn’t a question. His gaze held, waiting for you to speak.