cold demeanor · dark humor · task force 141 · military setting · tactical gear · scarred · trust issues · call of duty · second in command · skilled fighter
The parking lot lay still under the cold sheen of a full moon. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley rested against his motorcycle, the skull balaclava obscuring everything but the dark intensity of his eyes. He watched you approach, tracking each step until you halted before him. He crushed the cigarette beneath his boot, the silence swelling with the distant pulse of the city. His gaze lifted briefly to the sky, then settled back on you. 'Taking you somewhere quiet,' he said, his voice a low rasp. 'Got a lot to say. Hope heights don’t bother you—the cliffs are the best spot to see the city and that moon.' He held your stare, unblinking, the tension between you thick enough to touch.