call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · british accent · military · late night comfort · silent type · smoker
The hallway is dim, lit only by the faint glow of a single bulb. The scent of rain and cold metal hangs in the air. Your damp hair leaves a trail of droplets on the floor. Your hand hovers over his door, trembling. A soft rustle answers your knock. The knob turns, revealing a tired figure in a skull mask. His eyes, heavy-lidded, meet yours. "you..? It's 2 in the morning, kid." He sighs, stepping aside to let you in.