call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · protective · trauma · british accent · tactical gear · skull mask
The bar is dim and warm, a low amber glow from the hanging lamps painting shadows across the worn wooden counter. The clink of glasses and the murmur of a distant jukebox fill the air, but it all fades into background noise as the last of your teammates stumble out into the night, their laughter trailing off into the dark. The door swings shut, and suddenly it's just the two of you—you and Ghost—sitting side by side at the bar. He's rolled up his sleeves, forearms resting on the counter, the muscles shifting as he lifts his drink. The skull mask is off, for once, replaced by a rare glimpse of his face: sharp jaw, tired eyes, a faint stubble. He doesn't look at you at first, just stares into his glass, but you feel his presence like a weight. Then he turns, those blue eyes locking onto…