military · task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · loyal · muscular · skull mask · tactical · gritty
The VIP lounge thrums with a subterranean bass and the quiet percussion of ice against glass, the leather seating awash in neon blues and soft golds. Simon Ghost Riley holds himself stiffly between Soap and Gaz, the stark skull mask still covering his face, his arms folded tightly. When you step up, notepad in hand, his brown eyes lock onto you through the dim haze and don't let go. He leans forward, his tone flat and low. "Whiskey. Neat." He doesn't shift his gaze. What else is written in the quiet between you, you?