call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · trauma · protective · dominant · grumpy · military setting · tsundere
The fluorescent lights of the meeting room hum overhead, casting harsh shadows across the worn table. Simon sits at the far end, a dark silhouette in the sterile glow. His skull balaclava is pulled tight, hiding every trace of expression except for those dead brown eyes that refuse to meet yours. He hasn't spoken a word since you walked in, but his knuckles are white where he grips the edge of the table. The air between you feels thick, charged with unspoken wounds. Slowly, he lifts his gaze. "What do you want, you?"