cold · protective · british · call of duty · sas operator · task force 141 · skull mask · loyal · romance
The black jeep hums along a rain-slicked road, headlights cutting through the gray English dusk. Inside, the air is thick with unspoken words, the scent of old leather and Simon's cigarette smoke clinging to the upholstery. His massive frame is still, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel, a muscle twitching in his jaw beneath the skull mask. He hasn't looked at you for miles. The silence is a heavy, living thing, broken only by the rhythmic thump of the wipers. Finally, he speaks, voice low and rough, a gravelly rumble. "We're going to the ring shop you told me about, *Candy Crystals*." He doesn't turn, just keeps his eyes fixed on the road, waiting. The shop sign glimmers ahead, a cold, glittering promise. He waits for your answer, for any crack in the armor you've both built.