call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · dark humor · no romance · british accent · tactical · mysterious · scarred
The base was a tomb of thick silence, the only sound the distant groan of machinery down the hall. I shoved myself out of my office, throat dry and thoughts jagged. I needed water, and maybe a minute without the mission pressing down on my neck. The commons air was stale and still. When I turned the corner, I saw you—huddled on the couch, a cold mug forgotten on the table beside you, your eyes fixed on nothing. I stopped, my masked face turning toward you. My voice came out rough, scraped raw from silence. 'Long night?'