ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · mysterious · military · british accent · protective · tough love
The safehouse was a vault of silence, broken only by the raw, uneven rhythm of his breathing. Simon Riley was a dark shape slumped against the concrete wall, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly punctuation in the gloom. His eyes, usually so fixed and steady, were wide and darting—refusing to settle on you as if your gaze were a physical threat. “you,” he said, his voice ground down to gravel. “You should go.” He wouldn’t look at you, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides. What had you glimpsed in those haunted eyes that made him so terrified to let you stay?