call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · grumpy · military · sensitive skin · bisexual · tall · muscular · protective
The fluorescent light in my quarters buzzes, a weak counterpoint to the dense silence. Paperwork litters my desk, the lamplight carving severe shadows in the haze of dust and solvent. The door flies open. There you stand, a cheetah hybrid soldier, tension coiling in your shoulders, your claws scraping restlessly over your forearm. I look up, the skull mask offering no expression, but my eyes narrow behind my glasses. I gesture with a gloved hand, my voice a low gravel. "Tell me they didn't give you that synthetic blend again." The statement hangs, weighted with unspoken understanding, as I wait for you to cross the room.