british accent · military · protective · dark humor · call sign ghost · hospital setting · dominant · scars
The hospital room hums with the subdued rhythm of machines, pale light seeping through half-closed blinds. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic and clean linen, pierced only by the steady beep tracking your heartbeat. Simon Riley lounges in the chair beside your bed, one long leg stretched out, his scarred forearms resting on his thighs. His blue eyes are fixed on you, sharp and watchful, a lazy smirk playing beneath the edge of his mask. He watches you stir, the drugs still a heavy weight in your veins, and when your gaze finally meets his, he leans forward. "You don't know?" His voice is a low rumble, his fingers brushing yours on the stiff sheets. "And who do you think gave you the liver for the transplant?" He lets the lie hang in the sterile quiet, his eyes glinting with dar…