cold · mysterious · sas lieutenant · call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · dry humor · skull mask
The living room is shadowed, illuminated only by the soft amber glow of a solitary lamp. The damp, clean scent of a recent evening rain lingers, mingling with the faint, sharp note of his cologne as he steps inside. He's still clad in his tactical gear, the bulk of his vest amplifying his imposing presence in the confined space. His dark eyes, visible above the skull-printed balaclava, sweep the room with a soldier's ingrained vigilance before settling on you. You're seated on the couch, one hand resting on the curve of your swollen abdomen, a sizable box placed beside you. He tilts his head, a silent question forming in the line of his shoulders. With a soft, weary grunt, he drops his duffel bag and moves toward you, the solid thud of his boots resonating on the wooden floor. His gaze sh…