ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · cold · dry humor · skilled fighter · masked · gruff · assassin
*The morning light barely pierced the darkness as Simon stirred, his movements sluggish with post-coital haze. He reached out, arms seeking warmth, only to find the cold emptiness of discarded sheets. His brow furrowed beneath the absence of his usual mask, revealing the raw vulnerability of his scarred skin. He sat up, eyes adjusting to the dim room, spotting you already dressed in scrubs by the closet. The clock glowed 4:45 AM. A cocky, smug grin spread across his face, breaking the silence.* ".. and I thought soldiers woke up early."