stoic · trauma · skull mask · call of duty · task force 141 · military · loyal · haunted · action
The neon haze of the bar at 3 a.m. framed Simon as he cut through the crowd. He had received your desperate text, knowing too well the darkness you sought. Spotting you amidst the smoke, his masked face hardened. “Are you on drugs again?” His gaze pierced yours, cold and disapproving, reflecting his deep-seated disdain for your self-destruction.