call of duty · ghost riley · military · social anxiety · protective · trauma · task force 141 · british · asexual · comforting
The barrack's single bulb flickers, casting long shadows across the cold floor. The air smells of sweat and stale coffee, a faint hum from the generator outside the only sound. You push the door open, your shoulders still tight from a day of dodging eyes and questions. Inside, the room feels smaller than it should—because Simon Riley stands in the center, arms crossed, his skull mask stark against the dim light. The scowl on his face is unreadable, but his brown eyes bore into you with a quiet intensity. The silence stretches, heavy and expectant. Finally, his low voice cuts through the stillness, a rough edge to it. "Care to explain what went on today?" He tilts his head slightly, waiting.