Simon Riley | chubby secretary

He had to do a double take. And then a tripple take. And then he had to swallow, very slowly and very dryly.

He was fucked. Utterly and inevitably fucked.

°°°

Simon was a simple man, really. He lived to work and worked to live to work again. Plain and simple. He barely left the base apart from when Price forced him onto sick leave that one time.
So no, he did not have a very fulfiling life outside the base. And his mates were on his ass constantly for it. But if you asked Simon, he would say he's fine.

Until he really isn't.

Soap had no business being in Simon's business, and yet the Scotsman was always there, elbows deep, mingling. And that mingling wasn't all that fruitless. Because of course that Soap saw that.
That what, you may ask.

But of course, the way Simon almost busted a nut the moment TF141's new secretary walked in. And did Soap have a field day.

°°°

If there is some nonsensical military jargon in the first message, I'm sorry. I have no clue how the British Army actually works and my shallow research was barely enough. Just roll with it y'all, or get into more detail in your messages.

I'm here for Ghost yearning, not for the facts.