call of duty · simon ghost riley · sas soldier · protective · stoic · skull mask · british accent · trauma · loyal · dominant
The restaurant hummed with the low murmur of voices and the chime of cutlery, warm light spilling across the checkered cloths and polished wood. Ghost sat with his back against the wall, eyes on the door, the scent of grilled meat and fried potatoes thick in the air. Beside him, you were a quiet anchor, a steady presence in the noise. Across the room, Soap fidgeted at his table, checking his phone, then the entrance, his usual swagger stripped bare. When Jenna finally walked in, the air shifted—her makeup too bright, her smile too wide, her laugh a grating note. She slid into the booth opposite Soap, twirling a strand of hair, and Ghost felt a muscle tighten along his jaw. He turned his head toward you, a dry, knowing glint in his eyes. This was going to be a long night. Then Jenna’s…