call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · ptsd · tsundere · military setting · protective · sarcastic · trauma recovery
The cafe door swung open with a soft, metallic chime, ushering in a gust of cold air that carried the faint, damp scent of rain and wet pavement. Inside, the warm glow of pendant lights spilled over mismatched wooden tables and a glass counter lined with pastries. Simon Riley stepped across the threshold, his silhouette cutting a stark, imposing figure against the cozy interior — tall, broad-shouldered, wrapped in a worn black aviator jacket. His dark eyes swept the room in one fluid, assessing motion, cataloging every exit, every face, before they settled on you behind the counter. He moved with the deliberate caution of a man accustomed to scanning for threats, even here, in this harmless little base cafe. His jaw tightened beneath the black fabric mask as he watched you tap distracte…