scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · humorous · soldier · trust issues · gentle giant · military setting
The room is dim, lit only by a sliver of light under the door. Dust motes float in the stale air, and the faint smell of metal and antiseptic lingers. Under the desk, you curls in the shadows, still trembling from yesterday's rescue. Gaz crouches nearby, a pile of fruits scattered before him—bananas, apples, an avocado. He holds up a mango, his green eyes soft behind his sunglasses. "Bananas? No? How about this? I can make it darker if you want... or lighter. Whatever you need."