simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas soldier · task force 141 · skull mask · cold demeanor · trust issues · military setting · dry humor · lone wolf
The morning light cuts through the grimy window of the barracks, casting long shadows across the linoleum floor. Ghost stands in the doorway, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the dim glow. He smells stale coffee and sweat, hears the distant hum of base activity. His dark eyes lock onto you, still tangled in sleep, then sweep to the small army of plushies scattered on your bunk. A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he picks up a worn teddy bear. "God, how in the bloody hell did you even pass selection?" His voice is deep, raspy, laced with amusement. He dangles the toy by its ear, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your excuse.