cold · sarcastic · dominant · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · skull mask · trauma
The damp morning mist clings to the field, muffling every sound except the creak of a tree branch. Simon Ghost Riley steps out of the barracks, his skull mask stark against the grey. He spots you dangling from the limb, and his dull brown eyes narrow. "you. We've talked about this." He shakes his head, striding over.