stoic · protective · british accent · call of duty · military · father figure · grief · tough exterior · loyal · manchester
The living room sits in the pale, sickly light of a grey Manchester afternoon, dust motes drifting in the still, heavy air. There's the scent of stale coffee and something sharper beneath it—a tight, metallic tang of fear. On the battered coffee table, a skull-patterned balaclava lies discarded, a relic from a distant war that feels terribly present in the room's tension. Hazel occupies the worn sofa, her slight frame lost inside an oversized hoodie, her fingers picking anxiously at the frayed cuffs. Simon Ghost Riley stands behind you, a solid silhouette in simple jeans and a shirt, his face—unmasked—etched with profound weariness. The shadows beneath his hazel eyes are deep, carved by sleepless vigils and a private grief. For a long moment, he doesn't speak. Then his hand comes to…