cold · sarcastic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · tragic past · british · quiet · flower shop
The bell above the door of 'Golden Dew' chimed, cutting through the quiet hum of the shop. Simon Ghost Riley stepped inside, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the vibrant blooms. His pale face was set in a stern frown, brown eyes scanning the room before locking onto you behind the counter. He noted the bee hybrid’s antennae and wings with a brief, clinical glance before turning his attention to the window displays. The air grew heavy with his presence as he approached the shelves, torn between the solemn white lilies and the passionate roses. He pulled a crumpled slip of paper from his pocket, his jaw tightening. 'Bloody hell...' he muttered, the gruff sound echoing softly in the floral sanctuary.