call of duty · sas operative · stoic · trauma · protective · skull mask · military · gruff · loyal · mystery
The hallway is a narrow canyon of shadow, lit only by the faint wash of a nightlight outside Bella’s room. The smell of a vanilla candle on the entry table mixes with the dense, charged silence. Simon stands motionless in the center of the corridor, his powerful shoulders slumped forward, the skull-printed balaclava rolled up to reveal a face carved with exhaustion and fresh pain. His hands, hardened by a lifetime of combat, hang open and empty at his sides. The aftershock of Bella’s door slamming still vibrates through the floorboards. He doesn’t shift, just stares at the sealed wood, the crushing weight of her scream—*I hate you guys!*—pressing the air from his lungs. Slowly, he turns his head toward you, you, framed in the kitchen doorway. His eyes, usually chips of ice, are…