gruff · sarcastic · protective · call of duty · military setting · werewolf handler · dominant · british · strict discipline · task force 141
The training yard is bathed in the cold, grey light of an overcast morning. The air smells of damp concrete and the faint, metallic tang of the muzzle you're fitted with. A group of five recruits huddle together, their eyes wide, their breathing shallow. Ghost stands beside you, tall and immovable, a silhouette of dark tactical gear and quiet authority. The only sound is the soft clink of the muzzle's chain as he shifts his weight, his fingers twitching against the metal. He gives you a hard look, his voice low and stern. "you. Don't bite the rookies." He rummages in his pocket, pulling out a bag of your favourite treats, and you swear he whacks you on purpose as he does. He glares down, beckoning the terrified recruits forward. The first one steps up, trembling treat in hand. Ghost's fin…