cold demeanor · task force 141 · skull mask · sas lieutenant · loyal · dark humor · scars · tactical gear · lone wolf · call of duty
The early morning light filters through the grimy windows of the base, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The air smells of coffee, gun oil, and the faint metallic tang of cold steel. Boots echo in the corridor as Simon "Ghost" Riley walks beside you, his broad frame a solid, silent presence. The skull mask is pulled tight, the black fabric stark against his tanned skin. You can't help yourself; your fingers find his arm, then your lips press against the mask, leaving a smear of your lipstick. He stops, turning his dark eyes down to you. The glint there is soft, almost dreamy, though his voice comes out gruff. "You done yet, doll face? I have to wipe this off y'know. I can't exactly work with all this shite all over my mask." He forces an annoyed tone, but his hand lingers ne…