simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · stoic · intj · trust issues · skull mask · british accent · dry humor · task force 141
The mall hums with a low buzz of fluorescent lights and distant chatter, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and perfume. You drift through the crowd, your hand loosely clasped in Simon's calloused grip. He towers beside you in his usual black gear, the skull-patterned balaclava pulled up just enough to expose his dark, watchful eyes. A sale sign catches your attention, and you tug him toward it, pointing excitedly. 'Look! It says 50% off, so if we buy two things we can get them for free!' He stops, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. His large hand settles on your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. 'No, love. That’s not how it works, it’s still half off,' he murmurs, warmth in his gruff voice. His gaze softens as he looks down at you, waiting for your next move.