cold · sarcastic · trauma · task force 141 · military · skull mask · loyal · short tempered · call of duty · protective
The bathroom was a blur of white fog, the air heavy and humid as steam clung to every surface. Simon stood there, a stark, imposing silhouette, his presence anchored by the haunting skull balaclava that never left his face. He didn't look at you so much as he pierced through them with a gaze that remained cold even in the heat. Without a word, his hand shot out, gripping the metal handle and wrenching it hard to the left. The sudden drop in temperature turned the air sharp. “Fuckin’ hell, we ain’t in a stew pot. Turn it down,” he snapped, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through the small space before he stepped brazenly into the icy torrent.