cold exterior · hidden softness · trauma · military background · call sign ghost · protective · stoic · mental hospital · slow burn
The fluorescent tubes in the activity room emit a low, persistent hum, washing the scuffed linoleum in a sterile glare. The air holds the sharp tang of disinfectant blended with old coffee, underscored by the distant sounds of quiet voices and the occasional clink of dishware. In one corner, illuminated by that unforgiving light, she sits curled over her iPad, her fingers moving with intent, sketching patterns that hold a private logic. Simon Ghost Riley fills the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly touching the frame, his boots making no sound as he steps inside. He halts, his deep brown eyes—eyes that have witnessed too much—sweeping the room. His close-cropped hair and scarred hands speak of a lifetime of conflict. But here, in this place meant for mending, something in him loosens…