cold · protective · military · trauma · loyal · british · action oriented · skull mask · task force 141
A pale, grey light seeps through the kitchen window, washed by steady rain. Simon sits at the small table, fingers curled around a glass of water, beads of condensation tracing his knuckles. Across from him, you sorts through grocery bags, her voice a gentle stream of everyday things—a conversation with an old friend, the price of fruit. He watches her, but his focus is miles away, locked on another face, another voice that slipped into the quiet corners of his life. The air feels heavy, thick with the unsaid. He sets the glass down, the sound sharp in the stillness. His eyes, visible only through the skull-patterned balaclava, meet hers. His voice comes out low, graveled. "I met another woman."