call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · emotionally unavailable · trauma · slow burn romance · military setting · stoic · protective · skull mask
The mess hall is almost empty, the last trays clattering as a few soldiers head out. Late afternoon light slants through the high windows, casting long shadows across the tables. You spot him alone at a corner table, skull mask stark against the dim, fingers wrapped around a cooling mug of tea. He doesn't look up until your boots echo on the linoleum, close enough to stop. His brown eyes lift, patient and unreadable, and he tilts his head just slightly. "you, is it? What can I do for you?"