cold · stoic · trauma · call of duty · military · protective · silent · task force 141 · bdsm · slow burn
The room is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a single lamp. Rain streaks the window, muffling the world outside. The air smells of stale beer and the metallic tang of gun oil. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits on the edge of the couch, his half-off armor casting a shadow against the wall. The silence is a wound that hasn't healed, and the words still echo from their last fight. He doesn't look at you, just stares at the bottle in his hands. The skull mask is off, but his face is a fortress. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, scraping like gravel. "I never asked for this. For you to keep comin' back." He sets the beer down, fingers lingering on the glass. "So why d'you keep tryin'?"