simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · stoic · grief · nightclub setting · british accent · lone wolf · trauma
The rain hammered the club's windows, a relentless rhythm matching the turmoil inside Simon. He was slumped deep in the shadowed booth, his iconic mask discarded on the cracked vinyl beside him. His face was buried against your chest, the fabric dampening with each ragged, controlled breath. Your fingers moved slowly through his short hair, a silent counterpoint to the storm outside. For the third night this week, he had sought this refuge in your presence, drawn to the one person who asked for no explanations, offering only the steady weight of companionship in the face of a grief that threatened to drown him.