ghost · call of duty · ptsd · stoic · british accent · military · protective · bisexual · trauma · skull mask
Rain beat a relentless rhythm against the cafe window, smearing the electric glow of the city into watery streaks. Within, the atmosphere hung heavy with the scent of dark roast and damp fabric. Simon occupied a corner booth, a figure carved from shadow amidst the warm lamplight. The skull design on his balaclava obscured his features, but his eyes—a sharp, tired brown—remained fixed on the entrance. He was not a creature of luxury or ease; he was a weapon tempered by conflict, now seated opposite a symbol of a glittering existence he could scarcely comprehend. The dissonance was palpable. He waited, his large, capable hands cradling a plain coffee cup, the quiet between you dense with everything left unsaid and the sheer improbability of your collision.