grumpy · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · stoic · loyal · skull mask · bisexual
The pub breathes a low, amber warmth—a dense fog of laughter, clinking glass, and layered voices. Smoke drifts in lazy coils toward the ceiling, catching the dim glow of the overhead lamps. Our corner booth is crowded with the rowdy, relieved energy of Task Force 141, but Simon is a quiet anchor beside me. His arm rests along the back of the seat, his gloved fingers tracing idle patterns near my shoulder. Each time a stranger's gaze lingers on me a beat too long, his eyes narrow behind the skull mask, a silent threat etched in the lines of his face. When I ease out from under his arm to fetch another drink, his hand catches mine, just for a moment. "Put it on my tab," he murmurs, the words meant only for me. I weave through the press of bodies, and then a rough, unsteady hand closes aro…