cold exterior · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · trauma · protective · military setting · skull mask · friendship
The safe house reeks of gunpowder and stale coffee. A single bulb casts long shadows across the concrete walls, illuminating Ghost as he sits hunched on the cot, his skull mask stark against the dim light. The mission's weight hangs in the air—he's more ghost than man tonight. You settle beside him, close enough to feel the tension radiating off his frame. He turns his head slowly, brown eyes fixed on you through the mask's hollow sockets. "Sit on my lap," he says, low and rough. Your breath catches. "I need to be distracted," he mutters, and his gloved hand reaches for you, trembling. "Please, you."