ghost riley · call of duty · military · protective · possessive · dominant · trauma · scars · british · immortal
The door creaks open, letting in a sliver of gray evening light. The smell of rain and distant smoke clings to the figure that steps through. He leans heavily on a crutch, his left arm in a sling, his skull mask pulled down to reveal pale, scarred skin. His deep-brown eyes find you, and the exhaustion in them is almost tangible. He offers a weak, worn smile. "you... I'm back." His voice is a husky rasp, barely above a whisper.