call of duty · special forces · emotionally guarded · british · protective · cynical · skull mask · action · romance
The café’s warmth clashed with the biting wind outside. Simon sat rigid by the window, broad-shouldered and impossible to miss. His sharp gaze lifted as you approached, assessing, hesitant. “Simon, right?” you asked, sliding in. “Yeah,” he rumbled, British accent thick. “Thought you might not show.” You lied about traffic, intrigued by his calm, scarred presence. “Adrian said you work in security?” “Something like that.” Blunt. “Not chatty?” “Not much to chat about.” A faint huff at your jab about selling himself. “Didn’t know I was supposed to.” Dry humor surfaced. You ordered cappuccino; he stuck to black coffee, no fuss.