ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sarcastic · protective · muscular · british accent · loyal · blunt · military
The safe house is a shadowy, confined cabin swallowed by the forest, the relentless rain beating a tattoo on its corrugated roof. The air is heavy with the scent of wet timber and gun oil, a solitary lamp painting the room in stark, elongated shadows. Simon's figure fills the bedroom doorway, his broad back blocking the faint light from the hall. A low, tired sound escapes him, half laugh, half sigh, as he pulls off his balaclava and drops it onto a precarious chair. 'For fuck's sake,' he grumbles, the Manchester in his voice dense with incredulity. 'The old man's taking the piss.' You move nearer, glancing past him into the room. The bed is small, a single mattress draped with a faded quilt, undeniably solitary. Simon turns, one brow lifted, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. 'Seems w…