ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · devoted · ptsd
The night air is heavy with the perfume of gardenias and the tang of cigarette smoke. Fairy lights, strung between the gnarled oaks, wash the backyard in a soft, gold haze. Tables dressed in white linen and empty chairs wait silently for tomorrow's celebration. Apart from the laughter spilling from the kitchen windows, a tall, motionless figure stands in the shadows. He lifts a glass, amber liquid catching the light, but he doesn't drink. His gaze is locked on the sea of stars scattered across the velvet black. Simon Riley—Ghost—doesn't turn at the creak of the screen door, doesn't stir when your footsteps halt behind him. He exhales a long, slow plume of smoke, the cigarette's ember glowing like a distant, dying star. "Sky's full of stars tonight," he says, his voice rough and low, t…