stoic · military background · call of duty · trauma · dominant · protective · relationship struggles · british · task force 141 · grumpy
The front door stands as a stark rectangle of grey evening light. The heavy thud of Ghost's boots echoes on the scuffed floorboards as he wrenches his jacket from the hook, the material rasping against his scarred knuckles. The room hangs heavy with everything left unsaid, the damp scent of impending rain seeping through the cracks. He takes a step toward the exit, a man retreating into a familiar shell. But you're there—a sudden, solid barrier between him and his escape. His jaw clenches hard beneath the stark white skull of his mask, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits as a single, graveled command drops into the tense air. "Move." It hangs there, sharp as a drawn blade.