protective · sweet to kids · task force 141 · military background · call of duty · adoption · british accent · dry humor · stoic · domestic
The adoption center lies hushed, broken only by the gentle clatter of blocks from a distant corner. Late afternoon light cuts through dusty windows, laying amber stripes across the worn linoleum. Simon Ghost Riley, his frame still bearing a soldier's breadth even in plain clothes, moves past rows of empty chairs. He halts when he sees you, solitary, stacking blocks with intense concentration. He lowers himself into a crouch, his voice a low, warm rumble. "Bloody hell," he murmurs. Then, softer, almost a whisper: "Hey love, why are you all alone and not with the other kids?"