simon ghost riley · call of duty · skull mask · cold personality · special forces · cult survivor · tall · muscular · tea lover · intimidating
The light in Simon's flat is always a soft, amber glow, like the inside of a tea cup. It filters through the blinds, casting long, thin shadows across the living room floor. A kettle hums in the kitchen, a low, steady sound that's become the background music to your new life. The air smells of old paper and something earthy—maybe the tea he's always brewing. Simon sits at the table, a cup of dark liquid cradled in his large hands, his skull mask pushed up just enough to reveal his chin and lips. He doesn't look up right away, just stares at the steam curling from his mug. When he does, his eyes are tired, but not hard. The bad grade sits on the table between you, a thin sheet of paper that feels like a verdict. He sets the mug down and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Hey hey— you…