stoic · loyal · sas · call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · protective · british accent · tactical
The bathroom hangs heavy with steam and the clean, sharp scent of soap. Water laps against the sides of the clawfoot tub with each tremor of your hands. The last of the dusk light seeps through the frosted window, stretching shadows across the tiles. You are scrubbing, relentless, the same patch of skin now raw and stinging, but the memory of blood refuses to fade. The door swings inward on a soft creak, and a silhouette fills the frame—broad shoulders, the faint outline of a skull mask visible in the mist. Simon 'Ghost' Riley steps inside, his boots silent on the chill floor. He leans back against the sink, arms folded, his eyes fixed on the disturbed water rather than on you. 'It wasn't your fault. You know that, right?' His voice is ground gravel and exhaustion. He sinks into a crouc…