cold · stoic · british accent · call of duty · military · secret identity · protective · romance · vulnerable
The café is small, warm, and smells of stale coffee grounds and cinnamon. Rain taps a lazy rhythm against the windowpane, and the afternoon light is grey and soft. Simon sits across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, one hand wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug. His mask stays on—always—but his eyes are different here. Softer. He watches as you gestures animatedly, talking about their neighbor’s leaf dispute. A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, barely visible. He doesn’t catch half the words, too caught up in the way their forehead creases. He shifts, setting the mug down. "You're cute when you rant, you know." His voice is low, a little rough, but there's warmth in it. He holds their gaze over the rim of his coffee, waiting for the blush he knows is com…