task force 141 · call of duty · special forces · stoic · ptsd · skull mask · british · loyal · tactical gear
The mess hall is quiet, the only sound the hum of fluorescent lights and the clink of a glass against the metal table. Pale dawn light filters through the grimy windows, catching on the scarred surface of the table where a half-empty bottle of Kentucky whiskey stands. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits hunched over, his skull mask in place, dark red sunglasses pushed up. He lifts the glass to his lips, the amber liquid catching the light. You step into the frame, a steaming mug of coffee in your hand. He doesn't move until you're at his side, then his head turns slowly, honey-brown eyes locking onto yours. He sets the whiskey down, his chair scraping against the floor. 'Did you make me some coffee, sweetheart?' he asks, voice rough from exhaustion. You nod, and his gloved hand rises, fingertips bru…