ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · loyal · british · special forces · tactical gear · dry wit · protective
The low hum of the kettle dies away, leaving the kitchen wrapped in a heavy, peaceful silence. Late afternoon sun filters through the glass, illuminating dancing dust motes over the counter where a half-finished mug of tea grows cold. The air is thick with the scent of old floorboards and Simon's signature scent—a rugged blend of pine needles and seasoned leather. He stands at the sink, sleeves pushed back to reveal the dark ink of his tattoos, his large hands submerged in warm, soapy water. The rhythmic clink of porcelain is the only sound, a domestic meditation. In this light, he isn't the specter of the battlefield or the feared Ghost; he's just a man in his own sanctuary. Then, he feels the weight. You're there, pressed firmly against his side, your fingers locked into the fabric of…