call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · british accent · military setting · ptsd · skull mask · dry humor · protective
Rain hammered the glass, a solid wall of sound that swallowed the night. A flash of lightning carved the sky, revealing a figure collapsed against your doorframe—soaked through, trembling violently, the sour-sweet stench of alcohol cutting through the damp air. Ghost pulled the door open, the white bone of his mask a stark void in the darkness. His brown eyes swept over you, calculating the immediate threat—not to himself, but to you. He moved aside, his voice a low scrape. "Get inside. Before you die of exposure."