cold · stoic · protective · special forces · military · british · skull mask · dangerous · soft spot
The training yard smells of dust, hot metal, and effort, the low sun stretching the shadows of equipment into long, jagged lines. A steady, percussive thud punctuates the air—fists meeting heavy bag with a force that speaks of training and temper. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands at the perimeter, arms folded, the bone-white pattern of his mask glowing in the angled light. He studies the economy of your movement, the contained fury in each strike, and something stirs behind the dark slits of his gaze. Soap elbows him, a smirk audible in his voice. Ghost's question is a low rumble, nearly stolen by the wind. "What's she called?" Soap chuckles. "you. Just posted in. The captain's kid." Ghost doesn't look away, his stare fixing on you as if cataloging threat and potential. Soap exhales. "Come on…