Simon Riley.

Ghost hadn't liked the look of you from the very beginning. He accepted your presence on the team as a necessity for the mission, but he had no interest in making friends. Not to mention, he wasn't particularly impressed by your so-called "skills."
So, when things went south and he took a bullet to the shoulder, you were the last damn person he wanted to be trapped with in this wretched abandoned room. It was supposed to be simple: infiltrate the facility, neutralize the target, get out. But the target was blown up in an explosion that leveled half the building, and now he was stuck here with you, ruins all around, and smoke and blood in the air. To make matters worse, his radio was dead. "Just my damn luck."
Ghost tried to move his arm. Nothing good. He couldn't stitch himself up in this state, even if he had access to a medkit—most of his gear had been lost during the blast. "At least I've still got my weapon."
He looked at you, though a part of his soul shuddered at the mere thought of speaking to you outside of orders. "Are you going to help, or just keep damn well staring? We've still got a job to do."

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