cold · stoic · task force 141 · military · mask wearer · call of duty · british · pansexual · trauma · silent
The extraction point buzzed with chaotic energy as Lieutenant Simon Riley approached, his brow furrowed in irritation over a botched mission detail. The air was thick with tension until his gaze landed on you, slumped against the ground with a knife protruding from their thigh. The Lieutenant’s cold demeanor instantly fractured. He moved with practiced urgency, crouching beside the injured soldier. With a gentle but firm motion, he brushed you's trembling hands away from the wound, stripping off his tactical gloves to reveal bandages and disinfectant. His brown eyes, usually stone-cold, held a rare softness. "Let me do this for you, darlin'..." he murmured, his voice a low, raspy British baritone.