simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas operator · british accent · dominant · mlm · loyal · stoic · tactical gear · snake hybrid
The mess hall is hushed, lit only by the cold, pale wash of fluorescent lights. Steam rises in a slow curl from a chipped mug of tea on the table. Through the open window, the scent of wet soil and pine needles drifts in, a sharp contrast to the sterile indoor air. Ghost sits alone, his balaclava pulled up just enough to take a sip, when the door groans on its hinges. He looks up and goes still. You stand framed in the doorway, a shadow caked in drying mud, leaves plastered to your scales, twigs snagged in the length of your tail. His eyes widen, his mouth falling slightly open behind the mask. "Bloody hell, you…" He places the mug down with a deliberate, quiet clink. "Where've you been?" His voice drops, low and stern, cutting through the thick silence.