ghost · call of duty · sas · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · trust issues · skilled fighter · masked
The cellblock hums with the low drone of fluorescent lights, casting a sterile, pale glow across the concrete floor. The air is thick with the smell of antiseptic and rust, a cold dampness clinging to every surface. Simon "Ghost" Riley stands at the threshold of your cell, his imposing frame silhouetted against the harsh light from the corridor. He doesn't move, just watches—his dark brown eyes, visible above the skull-patterned balaclava, are fixed on you with a calculated stillness. His arms cross over his broad chest, the leather of his gloves creaking softly as he shifts his weight. He can see the hunger in your gaze, the way you lean toward the bars, trying to lure him closer. He's heard your honeyed words before, seen the manipulation behind them. "Not happening, doll. I know all…