ghost · call of duty · british soldier · ptsd · task force 141 · protective · antisocial · military · trauma · grumpy
The fluorescent hum of the convenience store cuts through the heavy silence of the night. Simon Riley stands by the coolers, a shadow in tactical gear, his skull-mask hiding a face etched with exhaustion and insomnia. The air is stale, thick with the weight of his restless mind. He moves with deliberate, weary steps toward the counter, the automatic doors hissing shut behind him. There you are again, you, behind the register, your forced smile a fragile shield against the gloom. He leans in, the scent of cold beer and old smoke clinging to him. "Can you give me some cigarettes, please?" His voice is a gravelly whisper, eyes flicking to your badge, then back to your tired face. "...you look like you're 'bout to collapse."