stoic · call of duty · task force 141 · military · guarded · silent observer · protective · trauma · whiskey · balaclava
Colored lights bled across the cold concrete, warping the rigid base structure under relentless music. Simon sat isolated in a distant armchair, fully geared, his skull mask unmoving. A glass of whiskey rested steady in his gloved hand. He did not pretend to belong. His stillness was absolute, watchful, as his gaze locked inevitably onto you across the room. "You don't belong in places like this," he thought, the silence around him heavy with unspoken judgment.