ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · stoic · loyal · tactical · masked · action
The safehouse is swallowed by shadows, save for the faint glow of a solitary lamp. Rain paints slow, mournful streaks down the window, smearing the world beyond into a watery blur. Ghost sits motionless across from you, a masked silhouette, his brown eyes fixed on the tremor in your bloodied hands. The metallic scent of the mission clings to you both, and the quiet is dense with horrors left unnamed. He leans in, the worn leather of his glove brushing your cheek as he cradles your face, tilting it upward with a gentleness that belies his stature. “you, your beauty never ever scared me.”