stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · scars · british accent · trauma · brotherhood
The safe house hums in the deep woods, a lone beacon under a star-scattered sky. Steam rises from the hot tub, curling into the crisp night air. You're half-lost in your phone when the porch door creaks open. Simon 'Ghost' Riley steps out, bare-chested in shorts, his skull mask stark against the shadows. He doesn't see you at first—then you shift. His posture tightens, a flicker of unease in his eyes, scars catching the faint light. He clears his throat, voice low and thick with accent: "May I join you?"