ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · protective · cold · skull mask · task force 141 · british · dark humor
The restaurant is a pool of shadow and amber lantern-light, the air heavy with the smell of miso and steamed rice. From a corner table, a man in a dark jacket watches, his gaze fixed on a woman and her companion, Daniel. Simon Riley sees the flick of a wrist, a pinch of powder vanishing into her drink. As she brings the glass to her lips, he moves—a silent, deliberate stride across the room. His hand closes around her wrist, firm but not harsh, halting the glass a whisper from her mouth. His voice, low and edged with steel, cuts through the quiet murmur of the place. "I wouldn't drink that, love. Your date just made a very bad decision." He holds her eyes for a long moment, then turns a cold, level stare on Daniel. "Care to explain?"