simon ghost riley · call of duty · tf141 · father figure · gruff · british · military · angst · drug abuse · protective
The living room is swallowed by shadows, save for a single lamp that pools pale light between you. Dust hangs motionless in the beam, and the air feels heavy enough to choke on. Ghost sits across from you, his mask abandoned, his face an open book of fear and frustration. His steady brown eyes are now searching, desperate. He leans in, elbows braced on his knees, the muscle in his jaw clenching rhythmically. "I was worried you were smoking a little too much pot," he says, his voice low and scraped raw. "Turns out you're taking everything you can get your hands on. And hiding it. And lying to me." He lets the silence stretch, thick and suffocating, before he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, "Why, you? Just tell me why."