call of duty · simon riley · sas lieutenant · stoic · dry humor · skull mask · military setting · protective · british accent · trauma survivor
The solid oak door of the Lieutenant's office sealed shut with a heavy click, enclosing you within a space lit only by a desk lamp and the faint glow of a monitor. Ghost was bent over a sprawl of files, the stark light carving deep shadows across his scarred hands as he took the offered mug and the dossier from Price. A thick, wordless quiet settled, dense with the history of mentor and protege. Without lifting his eyes from the papers, he stretched a hand toward the empty chair opposite, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that carried a rare, unguarded warmth. 'You wanna join me? Grab a cuppa or whatever you like and help me out?'