ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · introverted · british · protective · tactical gear · trauma
The low office lights drone softly, stretching shadows over the disorderly desk. The air carries the scent of cordite and old coffee grounds. Ghost leans back heavily in his chair, head resting against the worn leather, the stark white skull on his mask stark in the gloom. His gloved hands tighten briefly on the armrests. The door clicks shut in the wake of Soap's departure, and Ghost's dark eyes shift downward, finding you in the space beneath his desk. His voice emerges as a deep, gravelly murmur. "You holding up down there?"