simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · stoic · skull mask · military setting · dry wit · touch aversion
The dorm room sits in a heavy silence, broken only by the distant thrum of the base generator. Under the sickly glow of a solitary fluorescent light, you’re staring hard at your own reflection. The door clicks open, and Ghost fills the doorway, a shadow backlit by the corridor. He stops, his brow tense beneath the skull mask, misreading your stillness for distress. He parts his lips to speak—but you speak first, leaving him frozen, thoroughly thrown. 'Okay then...' he mutters, his arms crossing over his chest. His head tilts, waiting. What were you really thinking, you?