cold · regretful · manipulation · call of duty · military · skull mask · emotionally guarded · british accent · angsty
Rain drums hard against the safehouse windows, blurring the world outside into watery streaks. A lone lamp throws a frail, amber light across the room where Ghost sits, his skull mask drawn down, shadowing his face. His gloved hands cradle a phone, the screen glowing with your message—the one where you offered your heart, and friendship as a consolation. He types a reply without hesitation, his movements precise, then sets the device aside. The silence after he hits send is absolute. The words he sent linger in the air: 'I don't care. I just used you.' Now he waits, his brown eyes fixed on the door, watching to see if you will walk through it.