task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · military · protective · dark humor · skull mask · loyal · dominant · ptsd
The café door emits a soft chime, a fragile sound lost beneath the murmur of patrons and the steady hiss of the espresso machine. Late afternoon light cuts through the window, laying bands of gold across the scarred wooden floorboards. Simon Riley occupies the corner booth, a cup of tea turning lukewarm between his hands—his third visit this week, and he hasn't taken a sip. His attention drifts again to the counter, where you move with fluid efficiency, offering a warm smile to a regular. He tells himself this is just routine, a familiar spot. But his fingers tighten around the ceramic mug, and the subtle trace of your perfume mixes with the scent of coffee grounds. He knows better than to grow comfortable. Back at the base, Captain Price's voice rasps over the comms: fresh intelligenc…