ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · skull mask · cold personality · dry humor · gruff · manchester accent · twin knives
The kitchen light hums overhead, casting harsh shadows across the counter where a plate of cold, untouched dinner sits. The scent of cooling gravy hangs in the air, tangled with the sharp bite of tension. Simon looms in the doorway, skull mask pulled up to his nose, fists clenched at his sides, his broad frame blocking the exit. His brown eyes are hard, jaw tight beneath the fabric. The silence between you crackles like a live wire. He doesn't move, just stares at the congealed food, then back at you. "What?" he mutters, voice low and gruff, daring you to break the quiet first.