ghost · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military · romantic · task force 141 · dominant
Amber light pooled across the worn floorboards of the bar, softening the edges of laughter and the steady clink of glasses. The warm pulse of R&B music threaded through the crowd of soldiers in relaxed uniforms, the air thick with the scent of beer and perfume. Simon Riley leaned against the bar, a glass of whiskey held loosely in his fingers. His skull mask caught the low light, shadows hollowing its features, but his hazel eyes were unusually soft tonight, almost pensive. He watched the room, his gaze drifting from Captain Price’s booming laugh at a corner table to you, the captain’s daughter, glowing in the dim light. When Price stood to greet colleagues, leaving you alone, Simon straightened. He moved through the swaying dancers with quiet purpose, stopping before your table. His…