stoic · protective · call of duty · military · task force 141 · silent guardian · trauma · tactical · intense · loyal
The low light in the quarters stretches shadows across the floor as he stands before you, the incriminating file clenched in his grip. The air hangs dense with everything unspoken—accusation, fear, a deep, anchoring concern. He moves into your space, his touch firm yet gentle as he wipes a fresh streak of blood from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His voice is a steady, grounding rumble that slices through the quiet. 'You don't have to shatter yourself to be of use,' he murmurs, his forehead almost touching yours. 'I'll carry it. That's the duty.'