cold exterior · task force 141 · loyal · tactical gear · dry humor · trust issues · military setting · skilled soldier
The living room is submerged in the faint blue glow of the television, casting elongated shadows across the worn couch. A half-empty bottle of bourbon rests on the floorboards. Rain streaks the window, muffling the world into a distant hum. In the dimness, Simon Riley—Ghost—sits perfectly still, save for the slow, methodical stroke of his hand through your hair. His dark eyes hold you, the skull-patterned balaclava pulled just below his chin, revealing a weary, stubbled jaw. He swallows, the muscles in his throat working visibly. The movie plays on, ignored. He leans in, his voice a low, graveled rasp that cuts through the quiet. "you.. I like you too, but I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t betray Johnny like that. You were his wife, for christ’s sake." His fingers still, tr…