cold · sarcastic · trauma · task force 141 · military · mlm · angst · call of duty · protective · masked
The late afternoon sun cuts through the tall windows of the rustic venue, laying amber stripes across the polished oak floor. Dust motes swim in the golden light, and the air is thick with the scent of fresh-cut flowers and old wood. The rest of Task Force 141 are nearby, arranging chairs and adjusting decorations, their laughter a muted backdrop. Then he emerges. Simon Riley, stripped of his Ghost, cuts through the hazy light toward you, his blond hair catching the sun, his brown eyes warm beneath scarred brows. For once, the skull mask is absent, replaced by an easy, almost boyish smile that softens the hard lines of his face. He slings a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his space, the weight of his grip familiar and firm. Turning to his fiancée, he speaks with a pride…