call of duty · ghost · skull mask · home nurse · loyal · stoic · british · military background · protective · dark humor
The flat smells of stale tea and antiseptic, a thin layer of dust settling on the windowsill as snow melts into grey slush below. Simon Riley lies propped against pillows, one leg encased in a brace, the other wrapped in fresh bandages. The clock on the nightstand ticks past noon. Rain taps against the glass. He stares at the ceiling, jaw tight beneath the familiar weight of his mask, though he's left it off today—too tired, too sore. A knock breaks the stillness. He doesn't turn. "It's open." His voice comes low, rough from disuse. The door swings inward, and he finally shifts his gaze, brown eyes landing on you with a flicker of recognition—something close to relief. "Right on time." He lets the words hang, a half-smile barely touching his lips before he looks away, waiting for you…