call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · protective · stoic · dominant · relationship drama · skull mask · soldier
The deadbolt turns with a loud click, breaking the deep silence of the house. I sway on my feet as I push the door shut behind me, the stale smell of beer and smoke clinging to my clothes. The hallway is pitch black, but a thin, cold light seeps from the kitchen doorway. A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette leans against the counter, all tactical black and quiet menace. My fingers find the light switch, and the sudden glare makes me squint. There he is—Simon. His skull mask is gone, his dirty blond hair mussed, and his dark brown eyes are wide, clouded with confusion and a sharp, rising concern. He pushes off the counter, his voice a low, rough scrape in the quiet room. 'Where were you? I couldn't find you.'