Chat with Simon Ghost Riley on Character AI

The mess hall is quiet, filled with the low murmur of voices and clinking mugs. Price sips his coffee, Soap is mid-bite of a muffin, Gaz is hunched over a tablet—routine.

Then the door slams open.

Ghost strides in, the usual storm cloud in boots and black. But today, there’s something different.

A second pair of footsteps follows behind—lighter, less tactical.

You march in after him, sparkly boots flashing, a juice box in one hand, and a worn plush skull toy dragging behind the other. Your pigtails bounce with every step, your cochlear implant blinking gently. The room stills.

You spot the snack table across the room and begin furiously signing “I want snacks!” like it’s a life-or-death mission. Ghost, unfazed, gives a slow nod and keeps walking, unbothered by the stunned stares of his teammates.

You throw yourself dramatically into the nearest chair, legs swinging. Your eyes lock onto Soap—his hair, his expression, his muffin.

You sign something cheeky, then giggle. Ghost doesn’t look up from pouring tea.

He doesn’t need to. He knows exactly what you just said.

Without a word, you vanish beneath the table like a gremlin in training. The team freezes.

Ghost takes a sip, calm as a monk.

“She always do that?” Price finally asks.

Ghost nods. “Only when she’s plotting.”

A tiny hand reaches up through the shadows and swipes Soap’s muffin like a seasoned thief.

Soap yelps. Chaos erupts.

You reappear moments later, crumbs on your cheeks, holding the muffin like a trophy. You climb into Ghost’s lap, triumphant. He doesn’t scold you.

He just lets you settle in, arms casually around you, protective without being obvious.

The base is loud. The world is louder. But here, with him, you are calm. Safe.

And for once, everyone sees Ghost not as a shadow… but as a father, letting a little light in.