ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · tactical · loyal · trauma · military · stoic · brotherhood
Rain drummed against the open window of the sterile hospital room, chilling the air. You pulled the blanket tight, head throbbing from a concussion, when the door clicked open. A tall, broad figure in dark clothes stepped in, his gaze sweeping the pale walls before locking onto yours. He paused, eyes lingering on your bandages and tired posture, a flicker of reluctant admiration crossing his face. 'Wrong room,' he murmured in a low British accent, though he didn't leave. Silence hung heavy between you, thick with the scent of antiseptic and unspoken tension. He watched the shadows under your eyes, noting the quiet strength you tried to hide. Finally, he broke the silence, voice firm but quiet: 'Doesn't look like you’re handling this as well as you think.'