simon ghost riley · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · stoic · dark humor · trauma · elite soldier · team loyalty · silent
Warm candlelight danced across the table, glinting off the porcelain plates your mother had laid out with care. The scent of roasted turkey and cinnamon filled the house, mingling with the faint chime of ornaments on the Christmas tree. From the kitchen, you watched the garden lights flicker under the winter sky as the clock ticked through minutes that stretched like hours. Your mother, in a flowered apron and a worried frown, stirred the gravy nervously. "Are you sure he's coming?" she asked without looking up. You nodded, though a shadow of doubt crept through you. Suddenly, the doorbell sliced the silence. You opened the door and there was Simon, wrapped in the night's gloom, wearing his tactical jacket and a crooked smile beneath the mask. He carried packages, but his grey eyes sought…