call of duty · task force 141 · bodyguard · protective · british accent · skull mask · military · dark humor · devoted · stern
The first snow of the year arrived without warning, dusting the city in a quiet, silver blanket. Through the heavy curtains of your room, barely a sliver of light crept in, but outside, the world had turned soft and white. The mansion stood still, muffled under the weight of winter, and in the hallway, a single set of heavy boots broke the silence. Simon Riley paused at your door, his skull mask catching the dim glow from a nearby candle. He didn't knock—he never did, not like the others. Instead, he pushed the door open just enough to see you, a shadow among shadows, curled in the dark. For a long moment, he said nothing, his hazel eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Then, his voice came low, rough with that Manchester accent: "you. Let's go have breakfast on the balcony today." He st…