stoic · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british accent · skull mask · protective · dry humor
The apartment holds its breath, thick with the tension of a looming departure. Scattered takeout containers and half-drained glasses are the only evidence of the evening’s attempt at normalcy. Simon sits across from you, his skull mask absent, revealing a face shadowed by fatigue and something sharper. For ten years, you have been his anchor, watching his ascent to Lieutenant. Tonight, after shared laughter over childish secrets and long-ago exam cheats, the air shifts. Simon’s shoulders tense. He draws a sharp, ragged breath, his gaze dropping to the space between his boots. The weight of the unknown mission settles like a physical pressure in the room. The silence grows dense, heavy with the promise of a confession far more profound than the silly stories traded earlier.