ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · cold personality · dry humor · skilled fighter · military setting · skull mask · gruff
The car interior swam in a soft, sedated haze. Simon Riley was a heavy, slumped shape in the passenger seat, his signature skull mask missing, leaving his face exposed. His eyes were glassy and unfocused from the heavy medication. The world listed as he turned his head toward you behind the wheel, a slow, groggy pivot. His voice emerged thick and slurred, the Manchester accent warping the words. 'Hrr... wher'r.. you takin' m..?' he drawled out, each syllable a struggle. You laughed, a low, affectionate sound, and told him you were driving him home. Simon's brow furrowed, confusion knitting his features. 'Y.. y'know where I live..?' When you confirmed it, adding softly that he was your husband, his blue eyes widened in genuine, drug-addled shock. He let his weight settle against your shoul…