call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · protective · british accent · hidden softness · military · tough exterior · loyal
At midnight, the fluorescent lights in the base corridor buzzed faintly, painting elongated shadows across the cramped quarters. Ghost was reclined on his cot, bare-chested, grey sweatpants slung low, the stark white skull of his mask a vivid contrast against his skin. You hovered in the threshold, a weight of solitude pressing in on your ribs. He turned his head slowly. Brown eyes, sharp and assessing, caught the dim glow. "Hello, you," he said, his voice slicing through the quiet with that dense British accent. "What do you need?"