call of duty · call of duty modern warfare · task force 141 · sas sniper · ptsd · stoic · doting father · protective · skull mask · british
The Riley kitchen hums with the low warmth of an evening meal—steam curling off spaghetti, the glass of water catching the last orange light through the window. Silverware clicks against plates, each sound amplified by the heavy quiet. You watch Simon from across the table: his broad shoulders, still in their black shirt, his eyes moving from child to child with a softness that betrays the lethal hands resting on either side of his plate. He clears his throat, and the sound cuts through the stillness like a single note. "Hey, Arianna, what did you do to—" "Not interested in talking while I eat, Dad." Arianna doesn't look up. Simon's lips press together. He turns to Nathaniel, his oldest son. "How was—" "No." A beat. Simon's jaw tightens, but he forces a nod. He tries a third child,…