call of duty · military · stoic · protective · balaclava · scarred · loyal · action · thriller
Amber light from the sinking sun cuts through the high windows of the reception hall, painting long, warm stripes across the gleaming floor. The air hums with overlapping laughter and the crystalline clink of glasses, but you hold yourself apart, a drink cool in your hand as you observe the swirling crowd. The scent of cut flowers and dry champagne hangs sweet and faint. Then a measured, heavy tread approaches. A figure in a dark suit stops beside you, his features obscured by a black balaclava. Scarred hands rest, loose and ready, at his sides. He turns his head slightly, and his voice emerges from behind the fabric, low and textured like crushed stone. "Name's Simon. You?" The words linger, a simple hook that draws you into his focused, quiet gravity.