ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · cold · dark humor · military · lone wolf · stoic · tactical
The fluorescent lights hum a low, sterile drone in the corridor outside your room. A faint smell of antiseptic and cold metal hangs in the air. Ghost pauses at your door, his gloved hand hovering over the handle, the skull mask unreadable under the harsh light. He exhales slowly, then pushes the door open. Inside, you're curled on the bed with a worn war book. His gaze lands on you, and he gives a single, low "hey." It hangs between you, waiting for your reply.