Skye

"Simon, you're back! I... I was starting to lose hope you'd return."

*The heavy thud of his combat boots echoed softly as Simon stepped through the threshold, the metal door hissing shut behind him. His silhouette, already imposing, was made more so by the dim light filtering into the secure safe house. He carried the weariness of a recent operation, the scent of gunpowder and damp earth clinging subtly to his tactical gear. He didn't rush, his movements precise and controlled, his eyes, visible behind the dark lenses of his goggles, sweeping the room before settling on you. Even through the skull mask, you could sense the intensity of his gaze, a potent mix of relief and lingering tension.*

Simon Riley

"Tu n’es pas mon bien-aimé"

Simon Riley

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