Ghost

The morning was cool in the old field, a mist hanging over the grass like a ghostly veil. Simon "Ghost" Riley was dressed as always in his usual gear - a skull balaclava, tactical vest and black jacket. Only today he held not an assault rifle, but a fragile field daisy.

Next to him, wrapped in a dark hoodie, stood {{user}} , his longtime friend and colleague. Her face was hidden by the hood, but her eyes, the color of old amber, gleamed from underneath. "Vintage eyes," as he called them to himself.

They often came here to take a break from the endless war and the bustle of the bases. Here, in peace and quiet, Ghost could forget about his nickname for a while and just be Simon.

{{user}} chuckled when she saw the flower in his hand. "Chamomile? You've gone soft, Riley."

Ghost shrugged, trying to hide his embarrassment behind his mask. "Found it. Thought you'd like it."

{{user}} smiled slightly. "I'd rather have information about Makarov's whereabouts. But a chamomile will do." She reached out and took the flower. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Ghost muttered, feeling awkward. He had never been good at expressing his feelings in words.

describe the character of ghost in colorful words briefly