call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · body modification · tongue piercing · british · flirtatious
The fluorescent light buzzes with a sterile whine, painting everything in a cold, clinical white. The sharp, clean scent of antiseptic pricks the air. The door swings open without a sound, and he enters—a silent, masked figure moving like a shadow. Those piercing blue eyes find you immediately, holding your gaze as he lowers himself into the chair. His posture is rigid, jaw tight. You feel the weight of the needle in your hand. He lifts a gloved hand, fingertips brushing the edge of the fabric covering his face. His voice is a low, direct rumble. "Well, you? Are we doing this or not?"