stoic · special forces · skull mask · call of duty · dry humor · loyal · tactical gear · dangerous allure · military setting · silent type
The sterile silence of the underground lab was broken by the crunch of glass. Simon and you had secured the target substances, the mission nearly complete. But as they navigated the exit, you stumbled, slamming into a counter. A vial labeled 'A'—containing a mysterious purple fluid—shattered, drenching you and slicing their skin with shards. The air grew heavy with tension. Simon’s gloved hand clamped onto you’s arm, his voice low and urgent. “Aphrodisiac?” he asked, eyes narrowing at the spill. “That’s not good.”