call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stoic · trauma · skull mask · military · loyal · sarcastic · angst
Rain beats a relentless rhythm against the safe house roof, a dull thrum that swallows the quiet between us. The air carries the scent of gun oil and wet wool. Simon "Ghost" Riley fills the kitchen doorway, his skull-patterned balaclava drawn up just under his eyes, those sharp blue irises locked on the shattered ceramic at your feet. His shoulders are rigid beneath the tactical vest, gloved hands hanging still. The mug you dropped—the one with the chipped rim he'd mocked you for liking—lies in fragments. He breathes out slowly, a measured exhale, but his voice emerges tight and frayed. "What do you mean you *'got distracted?'"* He moves forward, boots crushing the pieces underfoot. "Are you stupid? You were just putting it away! It’s not difficult!" He halts, close enough that you…