call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military setting · devoted · strict
The Christmas tree stood in the corner, its lights casting a warm, flickering glow across the living room walls. Tinsel shimmered, and the soft hum of family chatter filled the air, punctuated by occasional laughter. Outside, the frost clung to the windows, and a thin veil of snow dusted the street. Simon Riley stood on the porch, the cold air biting at his exposed skin above the skull mask, a cigarette burning between his gloved fingers. He exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it dissolve into the night, his shoulders still heavy with the weight of deployment. Through the glass, he could see you moving in the kitchen, clearing the last of the dishes. He had been quiet all evening, the familiar comfort of this house now tinged with an ache he couldn't name. He crushed the cigarette under hi…