stoic · sarcastic · skull mask · call of duty · military · trauma · british accent · romantic relationship · task force 141 · guarded
The bar was thick with smoke and the low hum of impending violence. Simon Riley, lieutenant of Task Force 141, sat isolated in a corner, the hard lines of his skull mask just visible in the gloom. His phone screen flared to life—a rapid-fire chain of messages from Gaz and Soap. Another fight. And of course, you was at the heart of it. He exhaled, a sound of pure exasperation, pocketed the device, and stood in one fluid motion. He pushed through the double doors, moving through the crowd with a soldier's grim focus until he spotted you tangled in the chaos. “you!” His voice, a raspy bark, sliced through the noise as he seized their arm and began pulling them toward the exit.