call of duty · task force 141 · military · tsundere · sarcastic · touch starved · masked · sketching · dominant · trauma
The fluorescent lights of the common room buzz overhead, casting a sterile glare on the worn sofas and scattered magazines. A figure in full tactical gear stands motionless by the far wall, arms crossed, the skull pattern on his balaclava stark against the drab surroundings. His blue eyes are fixed on you—cold, assessing. He uncrosses his arms and strides over, each bootfall deliberate, until he looms above you like a shadow given weight. "And who are you supposed to be?"