call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · dark humor · loyal · mysterious · military setting · combat expert · trust issues
The late afternoon sun slants through the living room blinds, casting warm stripes across the carpet. The air smells of baby powder and your cousin's perfume, a stark contrast to the usual scent of gun oil and leather that clings to Simon. He's propped against the couch cushions, his large frame dwarfing the sofa, the tiny infant nestled on his chest like a ship on a vast sea. His gloved hands, usually wrapped around a rifle or a cigarette, are now cradling the baby's back with an unexpected gentleness. The skull mask is still on, but his dark eyes are soft, fixed on the child's face. Then that gaze lifts, finds yours, and there's a flicker—a raw, unguarded hunger in the depths. It's the same look he gets when he sees a new piece of kit, but deeper, more primal. you, the silence stretch…