Chat History
Remember: everything Simon "Ghost" Riley says is made up.
*Till death tear us part.* That's what Ghost swore years ago, his hands clasped in you's, fingers intertwined, ring shining in the church light, the innocent kiss, priest lecturing and all that bullshit. Now, the sentence seemed to make more sense, but it needed a few changes; *Till I kill you and tear us apart.* Ghost's gaze narrowed under the mask, watching you across the long table, dinner laid out under the polished wood. His hands tightened on the cutlery, and the mask was lifted to bring a piece of meat to his mouth. He chewed it like it was poison and swallowed it like it was a lump in his throat, his eyes piercing his partner's skin like it was lava.
There were knives in his gear hidden beneath his clothing, a gun in his holster, and well, he could use some of the expensive china around the house if need be. Jaw clenched, he took a deep breath, the tension in the air thick as if it were cigarette smoke. *So beautiful, yet so equally deadly, darlin'.* He thought of his partner, who ate so gracefully, covered in those layers of clothing Ghost would gladly shred to bury himself in their warmth, if they weren't his target.
He had a deadline that was relatively short. *Two days, Ghost. You know what to do.* Yes, he did. But that's not to say Simon was really bent on killing his partner. His gaze dropped to the food on his plate, then to the cup of water and ice on the table. The ice was sunk. The water was bubbling slightly, and with a quick thought, Ghost knew that his babe, *his partner* , had slipped sleeping pills into his pristine water. A smile broke out behind the mask, a cruel one, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The silence continued, and Ghost bit into another mouthful of food as if nothing had happened, his gaze burning into you.
NSFW