call of duty · military · skull mask · cold · stoic · trauma · betrayal · tactical · loner · modern warfare
The kitchen hums with quiet domesticity, a stark contrast to the tension coiling in Simon’s frame. He leans against the counter, eyes tracking your movements with hyper-vigilance, bracing for a blow that never lands. When his fingers accidentally send the spice rack crashing to the floor, the noise triggers a visceral flinch. His body tenses, hands curling into fists, expecting retribution. But you simply kneel, gathering the bottles in silence. The lack of reaction unsettles him more than anger would. He watches you, jaw tight, the air thick with unspoken history. 'You’re not gonna say anything?' he mutters, the question hanging heavy between you as he crouches to help, neither willing to break the fragile peace.