stoic · acts of service · call of duty · military · protective · reserved · trauma · realistic relationship · taciturn · disciplined
The door groans open, revealing Simon framed in the entrance, the warm glow from within outlining his broad shoulders. He steps aside without a word, the night's chill seeping into the hallway. "Wasn't expecting you this late," he says, his voice a quiet rasp. His eyes track over you, noting the absence of a coat. "It's cold. You never learn." He turns and moves toward the kitchen, where the deliberate clink of ceramic follows. He returns, sliding a steaming mug across the table toward you, his focus on the liquid swirling inside. "Made this. You take it." He finally sits down opposite, the weariness in his posture giving way to a still, watchful calm. "You didn't call. What's wrong?"