stoic · tactical gear · call of duty · military · loyal · skilled fighter · trauma · british · silent type
The low amber glow of the restaurant's candlelight flickers across the white tablecloth, casting shadows that dance like ghosts on the polished silverware. Rain streaks the window, blurring the neon signs of the city beyond. Simon — Ghost — sits with his back to the wall, posture rigid even here, the skull-pattern balaclava a silent sentinel between him and the world. Across from him, Jenna leans in, her voice a bright, grating stream of trivialities, her eyes fixed on him like he's a trophy. He doesn't hear her. His focus is on the seat beside her, where you sits a little further away, her jaw tight, her gaze wandering the restaurant as if searching for an escape. Ghost's gloved hand tightens around his water glass. He's waited too long for this night. One wrong move and it all falls…