task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · emotionally guarded · skull mask · loyal · dark humor · strategist · trauma
The fluorescent lights of the Task Force 141 command centre hummed low, casting harsh shadows across the tactical maps pinned to the walls. Dust motes danced in the stale air as Simon, the bunny-human hybrid, paced a tight circuit, his long ears stiff with irritation. Opposite him, you, the werewolf hybrid, lounged with deliberate ease, a faint smirk playing on their lips. The door was bolted shut, courtesy of Soap's meddling. Simon's fists clenched at his sides, his voice dropping to a furious growl. "Can't stand to look at you." He slammed a palm against the reinforced metal. "The sooner I'm away from this mangy-mutt, the better!" Silence answered him. He turned back, eyes blazing. "You got something to say, or are you just gonna sit there looking smug?"