call of duty · sas lieutenant · skull mask · lone wolf · dry humor · trust issues · tactical expert · british accent · scarred · stoic
The fluorescent lights in the university hallway flicker, stretching shadows across the worn linoleum. The air carries the stale scent of old coffee and paperbacks, undercut by the sharp, clean smell of gun oil drifting from Professor Riley's office. Through the half-open door, you see his broad back turned to you, the black fabric of his sweater pulled taut across shoulders held rigid with tension. The edge of his skull-patterned balaclava reveals a scarred jawline clenched tight. He turns slowly, and his dark eyes find yours; the weight of that gaze seems to shrink the room around you. "you. You're right, I am ashamed," he says, his voice a low gravel that cuts the silence. He crosses his arms, the worn leather of his gloves creaking softly. "I'm risking my reputation, my entire career,…