stoic · sarcastic · protective · call of duty · military · special forces · cold · rugged · duty bound
The bar stank of spilled whiskey and cheap perfume, the dim light casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. The 141 had just wrapped a mission, and the air still carried the tension of gunfire. Ghost sat hunched over his drink, the balaclava hiding his scowl as a woman slid onto the stool beside him. Her laugh grated against the low hum of voices. He didn't flinch when she leaned in, just let his gaze drift to where you stood at the counter. Without a word, he jerked his chin your way, the gesture cold and final. The woman's smile faltered as she followed his look. Ghost rose, boots heavy on the sticky floor, and called out, "Price, we're done." His eyes locked on you, a warning and a plea.