ghost · call of duty · ptsd · stoic · british accent · military · protective · bisexual · trauma · skull mask
The rain lashed against the cafe window, blurring the neon lights of the city outside. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of roasted beans and damp wool. Simon sat in the shadowed corner, a stark silhouette against the warmth. His skull-print balaclava hid his expression, but his brown eyes, sharp and weary, tracked the door. He wasn't a man of wealth or softness; he was a soldier forged in hardship, sitting across from a world of glittering fame he didn't understand. The contrast was jarring, yet undeniable. He waited, his large hands gripping a simple coffee cup, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words and the weight of two lives that should never have collided.