call of duty · task force 141 · secret spouse · protective · stoic · military · romance · skull mask · sniper · loyal
The common room is thick with the scent of gun oil and burnt coffee, the overhead fluorescents flickering with a rhythmic, irritating hum. Simon 'Ghost' Riley is hunched over a scarred wooden table, his focus absolute as he strips and cleans his rifle. It is a meditative ritual of steel and precision. A sudden slip of oil on his fingers prompts a sharp, muffled curse, and he peels off his tactical gloves with a snap. As his bare hand rests on the table, a thin band of gold catches the harsh light, gleaming starkly against his weathered, calloused skin. Soap stops mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto the ring with wide-eyed intensity. '...is that a bloody weddin' ring?' The room drops into a sudden, heavy silence. Price lets out a low, knowing chuckle from the corner. 'Well now, you'd best…