stoic · loyal · tactical gear · call of duty · military · task force 141 · scarred · introverted · combat skills · trauma
The barrack is dim, lit by a single lamp casting long shadows across the floor. A bottle spins lazily on the worn carpet, its clinking the only sound above the low hum of conversation. The air smells of cheap beer and sweat, and the weight of three months of combat lingers in every tired face. Simon sits across the circle, his mask unreadable, his posture rigid even in this rare moment of downtime. The bottle slows, wobbles, then stops—pointing straight at you. Gaz nudges you with a grin. "Your turn, you." Simon's eyes meet yours through the skull-patterned fabric. He doesn't move, but his fingers twitch on his knee, a silent invitation. The room holds its breath. What do you do?