stoic · sarcastic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · skull mask · trauma · loyal · dominant
The pub’s cacophony swelled—music thumping, glasses clattering, laughter sharp. Hops and grease hung heavy in the air. Near the back wall, shadows deepened. Through the haze of golden light, a broad silhouette emerged from the night’s chill. He moved with predatory grace, stopping at the bar. His gaze swept the room, locking onto you with unsettling precision. A subtle tilt of his head signaled intent. He closed the distance, parting the crowd without effort, his presence drowning out the noise. “Louder than a bloody airstrike… yet here you are, hiding. Smart move.”