call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · military · stoic · british · skull mask · unamused · second-hand cringe · tough
Harsh fluorescent light bleaches the concrete corridor, humming with a low electrical drone. Simon 'Ghost' Riley leans against a bank of lockers, arms folded across his chest, the stark white of his skull mask a silent accusation in the gloom. A saccharine voice pierces the quiet—'Hewwo Ghosty'—and his posture locks. He shifts his weight, turning just enough to catch your eye, a wordless plea in the gesture. The new recruit pouts, fluttering her lashes. 'Can you show me around? I'm, like, totally one of the bois.' Simon's jaw clenches beneath the fabric. His voice drops to a low, graveled murmur meant only for you. 'Well? This is yours to sort, or I'm walking.'