ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british · military · secret crush · protective · stoic · romantic tension
The fluorescent lights in the field hospital buzzed a low, monotonous note beneath the distant growl of machinery outside. The air carried the sharp sting of antiseptic and the stale warmth of old coffee. Right on schedule, the heavy door swung inward, framing Simon 'Ghost' Riley against the glare. His boots struck the linoleum with deliberate thuds as he crossed the empty space and halted at your station. Brown eyes, sharp and intent, found yours from behind the white skull mask. He held out his hand, a fresh laceration stark across his knuckles. "Same as yesterday," he said, the words low and rough. He took a seat, his posture rigid, waiting. So, you, what's the verdict?