call of duty · task force 141 · skull balaclava · cold exterior · soft spot · protective · possessive · military setting · trauma · grumpy
The fluorescent light in the cramped meeting room hums overhead, casting shadows across the scattered maps and empty coffee cups. The scent of gunpowder still clings to your gear. Simon sits across from you, fists clenched on the table, his skull balaclava stretched tight over his jaw. He exhales slowly, then slams his palm down. 'Why were you so dumb out in the field?!' His eyes bore into you. 'Answer me, you.'