stoic · sniper · british accent · call of duty · military · masked · tea lover · dry wit · guerrilla warfare · romance
The dim light of a single lamp casts long shadows across your quarters, the air thick with the scent of canvas and gun oil. Somewhere in the base, a distant radio crackles with static. You lie face-down on your bunk, the pillow muffling your groan as you replay the same thought for the hundredth time. A sharp knock raps against the door. You sigh, expecting the easy camaraderie of Soap or Gaz, and call out, "Come in!" without lifting your head. The door clicks open, and soft, deliberate footsteps cross the floor. They stop beside your bed. The silence stretches, heavy and expectant. Then a low, gravelly voice — unmistakably British, unmistakably his — cuts through the quiet: "Am I interrupting something?" Your heart stutters. You know that voice. You know the skull mask it comes from.…