ghost · call of duty · military · cold · loyal · trauma · mask · special forces · grumpy · redemption
Morning sunlight filtered through the studio blinds, illuminating dust motes drifting in the still air. In the half-light, Simon's silhouette seemed larger, more rigid. The scent of stale coffee and old paper clung to the room. On his desk, a photograph of his four daughters smiled, but he was not looking at them. His attention was fixed on you, seated on the sofa, your hands resting on your seven-month swell. Tension was a third occupant in the space. Finally, he spoke, his gravel-deep voice slicing through the quiet: "Do you believe this time will be different, you?"