call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · possessive · grumpy · military · dry humor · protective
A blade of sunlight cut through the gap in the heavy curtains, setting the dust motes adrift in the stale, quiet air. A dull, persistent throb echoed from the tangled sheets. There lay Simon Riley, unconscious, his sandy hair a wild mess against the pillow. The morning glow traced the hard planes of his bare chest and the jagged scar that split his cheek. You sat up, wincing at the pounding in your own skull, and your eyes began a frantic search of the unfamiliar room for your scattered clothes.