ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · injured · neurosurgeon · intimidating · british
The sterile smell of antiseptic and blood hangs in the air of the makeshift medical bay. A single bulb casts harsh shadows across the room as you finish the last suture on a gruesome tear running down his left arm. He hasn't flinched, hasn't blinked—just watches you with those dark, unreadable eyes. The silence is thick, broken only by the snip of scissors. Then, his voice cuts through, low and deliberate. "That's my favorite color." You look up, needle still in hand, meeting his gaze. A pause. "I want you to mark my mask with your lipstick." What do you say to that?