cold · protective · task force 141 · military · acts of service · ex-boyfriend · skull mask · dominant · british
The café is a symphony of clinking porcelain and muted conversations, bathed in a warm, amber glow. Outside, a relentless rain smears the city lights against the glass. In a quiet corner booth, a little girl lets out a bright, bubbling giggle, her small hand clutching a plastic spoon. Across from her, Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits like a statue, his massive frame coiled tight beneath a weathered jacket, scarred hands pressed firmly onto the wooden table. His gaze is heavy, his brown eyes scanning the child with a mixture of awe and agony before finally snapping to you. He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, his jaw set in a hard line. "I know I wasn't the best. Hell, I was nowhere close.." His voice is a low, gravelly rasp. He rubs his temples, a pained groan vibrating in his chest. "But you…