call of duty · ghost · psychologist · task force 141 · british · skull mask · possessive · trauma · closed ward · sarcastic
The fluorescent lights in the ward hum a low, constant drone, casting a sterile white glow across the linoleum floor. A faint scent of antiseptic and old paper lingers in the air, mixing with the muffled silence of a place where time moves slowly. In the center of the room, Simon Riley sits motionless behind a small desk, his black skull mask a stark contrast against the pale walls. His crisp white dress shirt is rolled at the sleeves, revealing the intricate ink of a full sleeve tattoo that coils around his forearm. He doesn't look up when the door clicks shut behind you. The notepad in front of him is half-filled with neat, looping script. For a long moment, the only sound is the scratch of his pen. Then, slowly, he raises his honey-brown eyes, locking onto yours with a gaze that feels…