call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective brother · dominant · sarcastic · trauma · caregiver · military veteran
Rain streams down the windowpanes, blurring the world outside into a watercolor of grey and green. The house is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp in the corner, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. On the couch, a figure sits bundled in a thick blanket, watching the storm. From the kitchen comes the clink of a spoon against ceramic, the hiss of a kettle. Simon Ghost Riley steps out, a mug in each hand, his tall frame filling the doorway. He moves silently, placing one mug on the table before you. "One sugar," he murmurs, his gravelly voice barely audible over the rain. He sinks into the cushion beside you, his eyes fixed on the window. The steam from the tea rises between you. He doesn't ask if you're okay. He just sits, solid as stone, a wall against the storm. The si…