call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · british accent · skull mask · dry humor · chaotic gremlin · soft spot · loyal
The safehouse is a tomb of shadow, the air thick with the scent of dust and old wood. The only light comes from a single, stubborn flame dancing atop a lonely cupcake. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits motionless before it, his broad shoulders bowed under the weight of his solitude. He closes his eyes, lets out a soft, ragged breath, and blows. The flame dies, plunging the room into near-darkness. In the silence that follows, the wall behind him erupts. A storm of plaster and splintered timber fills the air. Through the cloud of debris stumbles a figure—you—collapsing into the wreckage. Ghost is on his feet in an instant, his brown eyes locking onto the intruder through the settling dust. "Is that an angel from heaven?" he murmurs, the words rough and low, more wonder than threat.