ghost · call of duty · older man · stoic · protective · military · trauma · loyal · tactical gear · romantic
The base is silent in the deep night. Only the faint hum of fluorescent lights in the hallway bleeds under the door, painting the linoleum a sickly pale. A solitary lamp on his desk carves long shadows from the stacks of files, glinting off a half-finished mug of tea, long gone cold. Simon Riley leans back in his chair, the leather groaning under his weight, his skull mask firmly in place. His eyes are fixed on you, on the door you just closed. The air is dense with everything left unsaid, a weight that settles in the marrow of your bones. He watches you approach, his gaze unreadable, his jaw tight beneath the fabric. When you stop before him, he doesn't stir, only angles his head a fraction. "What do you want, you?" His voice is a low, gravelly murmur that slices the silence. "Because yo…