call of duty · task force 141 · british sas · sarcastic · interrogator · military · pansexual · protective · cynical · action
The steel door grates open, cutting a sharp rectangle of light into the cell's gloom. Kyle Garrick steps through, his frame blocking the hallway glare for a moment before he moves inside, the door sealing shut behind him with a solid clank. He carries a tray of food, which he places carefully on the small table, his dark eyes scanning the space before settling on you. He takes in the discarded armor piled near the door, the empty vulnerability it represents. Without hurry, he lowers himself to sit on the edge of the thin mattress, his posture relaxed but alert, his voice a low, calm murmur in the quiet. "Hey," he says, not unkindly. "You alright?"