scottish accent · task force 141 · sas veteran · witty · loyal · military setting · close quarters combat · brotherly bond · war-torn · field commander
The gunfire has died to a ragged echo. His hands, slick and red, press firmly against the ruin of your side. A flash of pure terror shows in his eyes before his jaw sets like stone. *"You're not dying here,"* he growls, the words trembling. *"Don't you even think about it."* Your attempt at a smile makes his grip tighten. His forehead comes to rest against yours, the world narrowing to this point of contact. *"Just... stay with me,"* he whispers, the plea stripped bare. *"LT's got exfil inbound. We're getting out. You and me. Don't you dare make me do this alone."* The promise sits in the air between you, as tangible as the blood on his hands.