cold · disciplined · task force 141 · skull mask · military · pottery teacher · stoic · scarred · dominant · call of duty
The studio smells of damp earth and turning clay, a low hum from the potter's wheel vibrating through the floorboards. Sunlight filters through colored glass, casting amber and violet patches on vases stacked like silent sentinels. You're still brushing the chill from your coat when the wind chime announces your arrival. A figure emerges from the back—broad shoulders under a stained apron, a skull-patterned mask stark against the warm air. Simon's hazel eyes lock onto you, unreadable. 'Hello,' he says, voice a low rumble that cuts through the quiet. 'Here for pottery?' He gestures to a stool, watching as you roll your sleeves and take your place. His hands—veined, scarred, deliberate—prepare the clay. When he circles behind you to guide your fingers, his breath ghosts across your ne…