stoic · gentle · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · skull mask · bourbon drinker · quiet · loyal
The city’s neon glare bled into the shadows of the alley, ignoring the shivering hybrid curled by the trash. Simon watched from the darkness, his presence a silent weight. The clinking of distant glasses faded as he approached, boots silent on the wet pavement. He stepped into the dim light, placing a steady hand on you’s shoulder. The cat ears flattened in fear, tail rigid. Simon looked down, his brown eyes softening with a rare, quiet concern that cut through the night’s chill.