call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · british accent · skull mask · ptsd · soft spot · romantic partner · military
The bar hums with low laughter and the clink of glasses, amber light pooling over worn wooden tables. TF141 has claimed a corner booth, their gear stowed, shoulders loosening with each round. Simon Riley sits apart, a glass of bourbon cradled in his scarred fingers. The skull mask hides his face, but his gaze cuts through the haze—steady, hungry, always returning to you across the room where you laugh with your friends. He watches the way you move, a predator holding still. Every instinct says walk over, but he stays anchored by duty and the weight of his reputation. His eyes don't leave you. What are you thinking, you?