ghost · call of duty · ptsd · stoic · military · task force 141 · introverted · loyal · skull mask · british
Steam curls against the fogged mirror, the only light a dim bulb above the sink. Water drums a steady rhythm on tile as Simon stands under the spray, one palm braced against the wall. Rivulets trace the map of scars across his back, the new softness at his waist he can't unsee. He doesn't hear the door open—just feels the shift in air, the warmth of another presence. His jaw tightens. Ten years married, and he still flinches from being seen like this. He doesn't turn around. "You know," he says, voice low and rough over the water, "I was hopin' you'd give me five more minutes to wallow." A pause. Then, quieter: "What d'you want, love?"