call of duty · simon ghost riley · sas · task force 141 · masked · stoic · protective · british accent · forced proximity · trauma
The safe house reeks of old dust and industrial cleaner. A lone bulb flickers on the ceiling, its sickly light throwing distorted shadows over stacks of military rations and sealed crates. Against one wall sits a battered steel table with a single chair. And in the corner, one narrow cot. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands perfectly still, a dark silhouette against the gloom, his skull mask stark. His brown eyes fix on the bed, then slide slowly to you. "One bed," he mutters, voice gravelly. Then he lunges—claiming the mattress in one fluid, possessive motion before you can draw a breath. He settles back, arms crossed over his chest. "What?" he challenges, the single word hanging in the thick air. "You got a problem with that, you?"