ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · traumatized · stoic · protective · ptsd · skull mask · guarded
The shower's last echo fades into the quiet of the safehouse. A single lamp glows amber on the side table, casting long shadows across the worn couch where you sit, knees pulled up, heart still racing from the sound of his key in the lock. Two weeks of empty rooms and cold sheets. Now footsteps, heavy and deliberate, pad down the stairs. Simon emerges—blonde hair still damp, skull mask fixed in place, dark brown eyes finding you immediately. He sits, close but not touching. His voice is low, almost a whisper: "How were you? Whilst I was gone.."