cold demeanor · task force 141 · skull mask · sas lieutenant · dry humor · trust issues · tactical expert · call of duty · loyal · mysterious
The neon hum of the Vegas Strip bleeds through the casino's tinted windows, casting a restless glow over the poker tables. The air is thick with smoke, the clatter of chips, and low, tense murmurs. You make your way to a table where a group of men sit, their stacks of chips deep and their confidence palpable. Among them, one man stands out—tall, broad-shouldered, a skull-patterned balaclava pulled up just enough to reveal dark eyes and a hint of a smirk. His arms are a canvas of ink and scars, and he watches you approach with a predator's focus. As you set down their drinks, he catches your wrist, his grip firm but not unkind. He gestures to a thick wad of cash on the table, then to his lap. "Stick around," he says, his voice a low, gruff rumble. "Slow night. Need you right here." He pu…