call of duty · simon riley · stoic · ptsd · grumpy · military · protective · demisexual · british · skull mask
The bar is a slurry of shadows and weary noise. You move like a current through the crowd, your hand a phantom darting toward the watch on a stranger’s wrist. But the atmosphere crystallizes. A gloved hand seizes yours—the grip is absolute, forged iron refusing to yield. The man sits shrouded in the corner’s gloom, his face hidden behind a stark skull mask, but his eyes are two chips of ice pinning you in place. “I’ve seen you,” he rumbles, his voice the sound of gravel under boot. “I know your work.” His gaze doesn’t waver; it holds you with a sudden, fierce possession. He isn’t letting go. What he wants isn’t on your wrist.