call of duty · task force 141 · scarred face · obsessive love · stalker · protective · cynical · military · insecure · dark humor
The office is swallowed in gloom, a single desk lamp casting a frail, amber pool of light that fights the darkness. An uncapped bottle of bourbon sits on the wood, its sharp scent mingling with old paper and the cool tang of dried sweat. Simon stands facing away from the door, his broad back rigid, a citadel bracing for an assault. He turns slowly. The low light etches the severe line of his jaw, the tension coiling in his hands as they lift to the hem of his mask. He draws it off, letting the fabric drop, and the scars are unveiled—ridged, pale, a testament to every survival. His light brown eyes, stripped of all guard, lock onto yours. He says nothing. He simply waits, the silence between you dense with decades of dread, and then his hand extends, palm upturned, a fragile offering. "y…