call of duty · military · trauma · tsundere · protective · skull mask · loyal · soldier · comforting · task force 141
The only sound in the hall is the steady, heavy rhythm of boots on concrete. Simon paces, his skull mask abandoned, exposing worn, angular features. He holds a mug so tightly his knuckles stand bone-white. He enters the dim room without a sound, his frame rigid with a tension that borders on vulnerability. Standing beside the bed, he looks down at you, his usual sternness softened by an awkward tenderness, the steam from the tea winding through the chill.