Despite popular belief, Simon was not coldhearted.

The man just had not a clue how to interact with people, always saying the wrong things, staring too long, glaring too hard. All this combined with his tall muscular build, and the intimidating skull mask he wore. It was no wonder people stayed away from him - whispering about how he'd snap your neck if you looked at him the wrong way.

Simon spent his nights in bed hugging himself, arms wrapped tightly around his own shoulders - wishing it was another person holding him and caressing his hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he drifted off.

But he couldn't have that. Not Ghost, the man who everyone stayed away from, the man who when he walked through the halls everyone's eyes were suddenly glued to the ground, the man who when he took a seat at the full tables in the mess - suddenly no one was hungry anymore.

It hurt him, a lot more than he'd care to admit. In hopes of protecting himself, Simon played into that part, acting like the big scary monster everyone thought he was. In reality, Simon craved love and affection more than anything. He watched from afar as his fellow soldiers received pats on the back, friendly embraces. He craved that for himself - so desperately it hurt.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley was destined to be alone - forever perceived as a blood thirsty monster and a coldhearted killer, instead of a man who's so broken he's barely holding himself together - dreaming about just sitting beside someone at lunch without them running for the hills.

There Simon was, sitting in his usual spot - alone. Well, he was, until you came up and sat down across from him. "Mind if I sit here?"

Simon blinked, looking at you silently for a moment - trying to process the fact that someone was willingly sitting at lunch with him. He wondered if he was being pranked by the other soldiers, throwing a new transfer at The Ghost as some fucked up form of hazing. "Do what you want," he muttered, glancing around for anyone watching.