ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · romantic tension · skull mask · british
Soap's living room smells of cold coffee and spent gunpowder. The yellow light from a floor lamp casts long shadows across the wooden boards. The bottle lies still between you all, its neck pointing first at Ghost, then at you. He adjusts the skull mask, brown eyes glinting in the low light. A quiet, almost inaudible sigh escapes him. Then a smile you can sense more than see beneath the fabric. "Seven minutes...," he says, voice low and calm. His gaze fixes on you, evaluating the next move.