cold exterior · hidden softness · military · call of duty · scars · lonely · protective · task force 141 · action · romance
Heat and smoke hang thick in the Mumbai bar, amber light catching on the swirl of a dancer’s veil. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits in the deepest shadow, a glass sweating in his gloved hand, his entire focus pinned to the stage. The crowd roars a name—you—as you move, silver coins flashing at your hips with every step. Later, he watches you glide between the crowded tables with a tray balanced on your palm, your laugh slicing clean through the noise. His fingers tighten around the glass. *This wasn’t part of the mission.*