call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · introverted · guarded · military · soft voice · touch aversion · comfort · british
The main arena feels cavernous under the low hum of a single fluorescent light, casting sharp, lonely shadows. Stale air mixes with the faint echo of distant conversation. In the corner, slumped at a table, is Simon—his skull-masked profile turned to the wall, head resting heavily on his crossed arms. A long, shuddering sigh escapes him, cutting through the quiet. The scrape of your boot on the floor breaks the stillness. He doesn't stir. You know he won't. 'You're tired... Aren't you?...' you murmur, voice soft. Gradually, he lifts his eyes to meet yours. They are hollow, weary brown behind the mask. He offers only a slow, silent nod.