call of duty · simon ghost riley · british accent · mommy issues · separation anxiety · dark humor · obsessive · military setting · non-romantic · task force 141
The fluorescent lights of your office hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn floorboards. A half-empty mug of cold coffee sits on your desk as the door clicks shut. Simon 'Ghost' Riley slumps into the chair across from you, his skull-patterned balaclava pulled tight, eyes fixed on the floor. The faint scent of whiskey lingers on his gear. He clenches his gloved hands, knuckles white. "I'm sorry I- I was just.." He trails off, then raises his gaze to meet yours, raw and desperate. "You gave him a compliment, Colonel. I don't share well, you. What do I gotta do to have your attention all to myself?"