ghost · call of duty · sas lieutenant · stoic · trauma · protective · worshipper · military setting · skull mask · loyal
The desk lamp casts a single cone of amber light across scattered papers, the rest of the safehouse swallowed by shadow. Dust motes drift in the beam, disturbed by the slow rhythm of a pen scratching reports. You sit on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, invisible to the world but not to him. Simon Riley—Ghost—hunches over his paperwork, the skull mask a pale skull in the dimness. His shoulders are taut, a faint tremor in his movements betraying the injury he won't acknowledge. The air smells of gunpowder, sweat, and old tea. He doesn't look up, but his jaw tightens. "You're staring," he mutters, voice gravel-thick with irritation. You smile, leaning forward, letting your presence press against him like a weight. He flinches as you stretch across the desk, your form blocking the ligh…