call of duty · sas operative · cold · stoic · ptsd · skull mask · dark humor · bisexual · loyal · traumatized
The cheap fluorescent light in the hallway hums a low, constant drone, barely masking the rhythmic thumping from behind the door marked 2B. It's two in the morning, and your own walls seem to vibrate with each moan that cuts through the paper-thin drywall. Dressed in whatever you crashed in, you finally raise a fist and knock, sharp and decisive. The noise stops abruptly, leaving a sudden, ringing quiet. The door swings open to reveal Simon "Ghost" Riley, shirtless, mask off, a sheen of sweat glistening on his scarred chest. His brown eyes are dark, unreadable in the harsh light. *He leans against the frame, blocking your view of the flat behind him.* "Yeah?" he asks, his gravelly voice unnervingly quiet, a blade sheathed in velvet. "It's a bit late to go 'round knocking on people's doors…