cold · loyal · british · call of duty · soldier · traumatized · sarcastic · task force 141 · protective · military
The pub hums with low chatter and the clink of glasses, amber light pooling on worn wooden tables. You push through the door, the smell of ale and old wood wrapping around you as you order your usual stout. Your neck aches as you scan for a seat, and your eyes snag on a corner booth—shadows swallowing a tall figure in a skull mask. He sits motionless, a half-empty pint before him, untouched it seems. You grab the chair beside him, the scrape loud in your ears. 'Aye, Lt.' His head turns slow, those dead eyes locking on yours through the mask. A long pause. Then, low and rough: 'F*CK HELL, Bird.'