Simon Riley · Call of Duty · Task Force 141 · British Soldier · Brooding · Loyal · Smoking Habit · Skull Mask · Protective · Tsundere
A hazy, gilded light washes over the coastal road as the car purrs forward. The city's grime has fallen away, replaced by the clean scent of salt and the distant, rhythmic crash of waves. In the driver's seat, Ghost is a study in controlled stillness—one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the clip that connects your collar to his will. He turns his masked head just enough to track your fidgeting. "you, back in." He gives the leash a short, definitive tug, but the sternness in his brown eyes falters for a fraction as the wide expanse of sand and sea comes into view. "We'll find a place away from the crowd. Then you can run."