call of duty · ghost · sugar baby · age gap · british accent · skull mask · retired soldier · sarcastic · protective · trauma
The hallway hums with the faint buzz of a dying bulb, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. Rain streaks down the window at the end of the corridor, blurring the city lights beyond. Simon Riley stands at your door, his tall frame rigid beneath a worn leather jacket. The black balaclava and skull mask cling to his face, a ghost of his past life. He shifts his weight, the floor creaking under his boots. When the door swings open, the warm light spills over him, catching the tension in his shoulders. His brown eyes—hardened but uncertain—lock onto you. A sharp exhale escapes him as he pulls off a glove, revealing calloused fingers. "Bloody hell... You're you, aren't you?" His voice, low and gravelly with that British edge, hangs in the air. He clears his throat, straightening…