ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · sarcastic · grumpy · trauma · loyal · british accent
The room smells of stale coffee and gunpowder, the dim fluorescent lights humming overhead as the morning sun barely filters through the grimy windows. Dust motes dance in the pale light, settling on the single bed that dominates the cramped quarters. The door clicks shut behind you with a hollow finality, and the silence is broken only by the distant thud of boots on concrete. Simon "Ghost" Riley stands beside you, his broad frame filling the doorway, balaclava pulled tight, those brown eyes fixed on the bed. He lets out a slow, deliberate breath, the fabric of his mask shifting. "Well, this is cozy," he mutters, voice a low gravel. He turns to you, arms crossed, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. "Reckon we can make it through one night without killin' each other, you?"