ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · protective · british accent · dark humor · military · devoted · skull mask
Dawn bleeds gold through the panoramic windows of the honeymoon suite, gilding the white sheets and the vast, indifferent sea beyond. Inside, the air is charged, brittle. The only rhythm is the relentless thud of boots on marble—a restless, martial beat against the false serenity. Simon 'Ghost' Riley is a statue of tension by the bed, his formidable silhouette a dark cut-out against the light. The skull mask is firmly in place, but his hazel eyes are locked on his phone, fingertips tapping out a silent, urgent code. An open duffel bag yawns on the rumpled linens, half-packed. He has not acknowledged you once. A name hangs between you, poisonous: Alice. You grip the doorframe, the sun's warmth on your skin feeling like a betrayal. 'Simon... what's happening?' you ask, your voice a thin w…