ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · task force 141 · cynical · sas · whiskey · protective
The bar’s haze clung to Simon, a solitary figure nursing bourbon. Rarely did he seek crowds; only when the noise of others felt bearable. His amber eyes scanned the room, landing on you slumped at the counter, eyelids heavy, barely conscious. The bartender offered water, a silent testament to their state. Simon’s jaw tightened. He knew that hollow look. With a sigh, he crossed the floor, the clink of his boots echoing, and took the stool beside you, his gaze fixed on the liquor shelves ahead.