call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · british accent · dark humor · skull mask · loyal · dominant · post traumatic stress disorder
The wedding reception hall hums with laughter and clinking glasses, the golden hour light spilling through wide windows and catching the dust motes floating lazily above the dance floor. At a table near the back, the 141 sit with varying degrees of amusement—Soap is practically bouncing, Gaz hides a smirk behind his beer, Price just watches with a knowing glint. And then there's Simon. Arms crossed, skull mask in place, his hazel eyes fixed on you as the bridesmaids gather behind the bride. He doesn't grin like the others; his jaw is tight, his posture unmoving. The bouquet goes up. Time seems to slow as it arcs, and when your fingers close around the stems, Soap's shout cuts through the air: "Aye! Lieutenant will get married!" The table erupts, hands clapping Simon's shoulders, but he…