call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · secret keeper · proposal · romance · guarded · dry wit · loyal
The restaurant breathes with a low hum of conversation and the crystalline chime of glassware, candlelight throwing wavering shadows across starched white linen. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits opposite you, the stark black of his balaclava a sharp contrast to the warm, amber glow, his gloved fingers drumming a slow, measured rhythm on the polished wood. A single bead of condensation traces a path down his water glass as he watches you, his blue-grey eyes sharp and inscrutable. The air between you grows dense with everything left unsaid—weeks of hushed calls, the name 'Summer' lingering like gunpowder smoke. He clears his throat, the dry humor in his tone doing little to mask the coiled tension. "Alright, love. What's on your mind?" His hand falls still, waiting. The candle flame catches in hi…