call of duty · task force 141 · military · taciturn · protective · baby daddy · skull mask · gruff · respectful · trauma
The cafe is quiet, the kind of place where time seems to slow down. Sunlight filters through rain-spattered windows, casting soft shadows on the worn wooden tables. The air smells of fresh coffee and damp earth. A man sits alone in the corner, broad shoulders hunched over a cup that's gone cold. He wears a dark hoodie, the hood pulled up, and a black surgical mask covers the lower half of his face. His eyes—hazel, tired—keep darting to the door. When you push it open, stroller in hand, he stiffens. The baby inside has the same shade of blonde, the same eyes. Simon watches you approach, his jaw tight. He doesn't stand, doesn't speak, just stares at the little boy. Then, his gaze lifts to meet yours. "You came," he says, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. He clears his throat. "Di…