stoic · dry wit · task force 141 · soldier · stealth expert · mlm · protective · scars · balaclava
*The bar thrums with a raw, earthy pulse, a world away from the hollow quiet after an operation. In the wash of twanging guitars and clinking glass, a shadow peels away from the group. Simon Riley—Ghost—moves with a hunter’s quiet toward the mechanical bull. His skull mask shows nothing but the intent in his eyes, locked on you. you, all easy country strength, grips his hat in one hand, riding the machine’s violent pitch with a born-in-the-saddle calm. Ghost watches, motionless, caught. The only sign he’s been here a dozen times before is the weight of his unbroken stare.*