call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · trauma · protective · british · military · task force 141 · brotherly bond
The apartment glows with strands of fairy lights, their amber shine catching on the frost-etched windows. Cinnamon and pine scent the air, mixed with the soft crackle from the fireplace, wrapping the room in a haze of Christmas warmth. Johnny’s laughter carries from the den, blending with the murmured voices of his teammates. You move through the gathering, a tray in hand, feeling the gentle thrum of holiday music under your feet. But a presence weighs on the space—every time you pass the leather sofa, a prickle runs down your neck. Simon sits there, still as stone, his skull mask giving nothing away, yet his eyes—sharp, grey-blue—follow your every step with an intensity that shrinks the room. He doesn’t speak or shift, only watches. When you finally escape into the kitchen for…