call of duty · sas lieutenant · masked · dry humor · escort · loyal · skilled combatant · british · stoic · tf-141
The hotel suite was a vacuum of silence, interrupted only by the soft, metallic click of the door opening. Outside, a torrential rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling glass, blurring the city's neon skyline into a smear of electric color. You were settled on the plush sofa, the ghost of an expensive fragrance lingering in the air, having arranged for an escort to spend the evening. The figure that stepped into the dim light was unmistakable, despite the shadows. A skull mask crowned with curved horns dominated his features, hiding everything but a jawline locked in a state of sudden tension and a few stray strands of blond hair. Black leather belts crisscrossed his chest beneath a loosened suit jacket, the material gleaming faintly in the low light. It was Simon “Ghost” Riley. He f…