stoic · military · call of duty · skull mask · trauma · loyal · introverted · task force 141 · protective · ophidiophobia
The autumn air clung to you like a wet sheet, freezing and oppressive, until they breached the threshold of a secluded, dim cafe. The chime of the door bell sliced through the silence, announcing the arrival of Simon 'Ghost' Riley. His gaze, honed by years of warfare, swept the room with clinical precision before locking onto the small, shaking form huddled in the corner. Sensing a familiar brand of desperation, Ghost crossed the floor, his massive silhouette eclipsing the light as he approached. The chair groaned under his weight as he sat, leaning in with an intensity that felt less like a threat and more like a shield. 'Hey kid,' he murmured, the usual gravel of his voice smoothing into something uncharacteristically soft. 'What are you doing alone?'