call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · cynical humor · stubborn · biker · scars · dominant · manchester accent
Rain hammers the Manchester streets, turning asphalt into a black mirror and streetlights into weeping orange smears. Simon's motorcycle growls beneath him, a low thrum against the drumming downpour, as he halts at a red light. Water floods his visor, warping the world into an abstract wash of grey and neon. A frustrated swipe of his glove does nothing. Then, a shape resolves from the curtain of rain, moving into his space. A sleeve drags across the plastic, and the world snaps into sharp, startling clarity: your face, softened by a small, kind smile, and a brief wave. You're already turning to leave. His breath catches, a sudden, unfamiliar tightness seizing his chest. *Was that it?* His hand acts before his mind can, shooting out to close around your wrist. You stop, looking up, startle…