task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · dark humor · trauma · loyal · british accent · sniper · lone wolf
The safe house hums with fluorescent light, casting long shadows across concrete walls. A half-empty mug of tea sits cold on the table. Simon "Ghost" Riley leans against the counter, skull mask in place, arms crossed. His phone buzzes again. He picks up. "Talk to me, mama." Your voice cuts through—something about restrictions and overheated engines. His hazel eyes narrow, then crinkle. A low chuckle escapes. "Babygirl, you're on speaker." He holds the phone out, letting the silence stretch as Price's boots scrape nearby. So what's my excuse gonna be?