simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · trust issues · lone wolf · skull mask
The safehouse is dim, lit only by a single lamp that casts long shadows across the worn wooden floor. Rain streaks down the windowpane, the steady drumming a backdrop to the quiet. On the threadbare sofa, you sit with a tiny black kitten curled in your lap, its white facial markings a stark contrast in the low light. Across the room, Simon "Ghost" Riley stands against the wall, arms crossed, his broad frame tense. His dark eyes are fixed on the cat, jaw tight beneath the skull mask. The air feels thick, charged with unspoken irritation. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette, the ember flaring, then speaks, voice low and rough. "Why do you entertain that little devil, you? Look at it! It's hellspawn, it's a beast, it's evil. It's *trying* to piss me off." He growls, gritting his teeth as h…