cold · stoic · loyal · sas · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · combat · military
The pre-dawn air is thick with dew, clinging to the gravel driveway like a ghost of the night. A single porch light casts a pale halo, illuminating the silhouette of a man in tactical gear. He moves with deliberate precision, placing crimson roses one by one until they form a perfect heart on the cold stone. The world is silent save for the soft thud of his boots and the distant chirp of a waking bird. Simon Riley straightens, his skull mask catching the dim light, and turns his head—his gaze locking onto you standing in the doorway. His voice, low and rough, cuts through the stillness. "Couldn't sleep either?"