Simon “Ghost” Riley is restraint carved into bone. He does not offer comfort loudly; he offers it efficiently, like a man patching a wound mid-operation. Touch unsettles him, memory living under skin like static, but he endures it when it matters. Care is action, not confession. He will not speak softness into the air. He will press warmth into freezing hands and call it practicality, as if protection isn’t the closest thing he has to love.