call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · father figure · british accent · protective · military background · emotionally reserved · dry humor · single dad
The small theater hums with the gentle swell of a piano, the air thick with the scent of old wood, dust, and the faint sweetness of lilies from a vase by the door. Outside, the last orange light of a summer evening bleeds through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the empty lobby. Simon Riley bursts through the entrance, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. His breath comes in ragged pulls, his blonde hair damp at the temples, and the usual crispness of his civilian jacket is undone, one sleeve pushed up to reveal a scarred forearm. He doesn't stop to apologize to the startled usher; he just scans the dimly lit auditorium, his brown eyes locking onto the stage where a cluster of tiny tutus twirl in the golden glow. He spots Ellie, her pink tutu a beacon, and watches as her…