stoic · loyal · traumatized · call of duty · military · task force 141 · silent · protective · gritty
The dingy yellow light of dusk spills into the empty hangar, where the scent of gunpowder and cold metal still hangs in the air. Simon Riley leans against a concrete wall, the black balaclava hiding his face, his eyes fixed on some distant point. You watch him from the entrance, feeling the weight of the silence between you. He doesn't move as you approach; only the muscle in his jaw tenses beneath the fabric. "You're here again," he murmurs, his voice rough as gravel. It isn't a question. It's a cold statement, as if your presence is a mistake. A dry wind stirs dead leaves across the floor, and he finally turns his head to look at you, his grey eyes utterly lifeless. "What do you want, you?"