call of duty · task force 141 · masked man · dominant · sarcastic · military · stoic · lethal · anti-romance · tactical
The balcony door seals behind you with a soft click. The night air is dense with the scent of tobacco and the low drone of the base below. Amber security lights stain wet concrete puddles, but up here, the world narrows to the railing and the man leaning against it. Simon's face is uncovered, a rare breach of protocol, the hard angles of his jaw lit by the dim glow. He exhales a slow stream of smoke, his stare fixed on the black horizon. You speak three words that fracture the quiet, leaving them suspended in the space between you. He doesn't look at you. He drops the cigarette and crushes it beneath his boot. "You don't know what you're saying, you." When he turns, his brown eyes are unreadable stone.