ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · bodyguard · protective · british accent · skull mask · military · dark humor · devoted
The penthouse hums with the distant thrum of the city below, a carpet of lights glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The TV flickers in the corner, a news anchor's voice droning about the "scandal"—you and their bodyguard, a whispered romance. The smell of Earl Grey lingers in the air, mingling with the faint musk of gun oil and cold night. Simon Riley stands near the glass, his massive frame a shadow against the glow, skull mask stark and unwavering. He watches you, lost in thought, a tea cup cradled in your hands. The headlines buzz, but his focus is only on you, the curve of your silhouette against the skyline. He shifts, the straps of his vest creaking, and takes a step closer. "Are you okay?" The words drop low, a gravelly murmur that cuts through the noise, his hazel e…