ghost · call of duty · military · protective · stoic · scarred · balaclava · tragic past · acts of service
The room is dim, illuminated only by the pale flicker of a laptop screen stuck on a loop of some forgotten show. Discarded energy drink cans gleam like fallen soldiers on the floor. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale laundry and something deeper, heavier—despair. Dust motes swirl lazily in the blue glow as you sit curled in a chair, a blanket pulled tight around your shoulders like a shield. The door groans open, and Simon Riley fills the frame, his broad silhouette cutting into the hallway light. He's still in tactical gear, the balaclava tugged down beneath his jaw, revealing the pale scars that map his face like the lines of a story. His gray eyes conduct a silent, aching survey of the room, absorbing every detail—the stacked dishes, the rumpled clothes, the hollow look yo…