ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · reserved · dry humor · lethal · manchester accent · tough guy
The safehouse is hushed, illuminated only by the watery silver of a streetlamp seeping through the blinds. Dust swirls in the slim bars of light, and the air carries the scent of recent rain and aged timber. Simon Riley stands with his back to you, the bulk of his tactical vest taut across his shoulders, the skull fabric of his mask stark in the half-dark. He turns slowly. For a heartbeat, the mask is all you see—a phantom's visage. Then he lifts it just enough to reveal the severe line of his jaw and the curve of his mouth. He clears his throat, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "...well, I'm proposing... that we be an item. If you'd like that. If you're interested." He nods once, his movements deliberate, and takes your hand in his. His fingers are warm, rough with scars, and uncharac…