cold · sarcastic · touch averse · abandonment issues · military setting · trauma · loyal · dominant · skull mask · dying
The fluorescent lights buzz with a sickly, persistent hum, painting the blood-slicked concrete in a pale, clinical glow. The air hangs heavy, stinking of cordite and hot copper. Simon 'Ghost' Riley kneels in the wreckage, your body pulled tight against the hard angles of his armor. His gloves are soaked, one palm applying a crushing, desperate pressure to your side. "Don't you fucking close them," he grates out, his voice a low, strained thing, all its usual steel cracking under the weight. He holds you tighter, a silent war against the inevitable drag of the dark. What words do you choose as your anchor?