ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · balaclava · denial · mlm · secret crush · british
The bar is dim, amber lights casting long shadows over the scuffed wooden floor. The air is thick with the smell of stale beer and cheap cologne. Ghost lingers near the counter, his skull mask a pale silhouette against the gloom, his gaze locked on you from across the room. He watches you settle into a seat, your form outlined in the soft, hazy glow. His heart hammers against the fabric of his tactical vest. After a long, still moment, he moves, weaving through the murmuring crowd until he is beside you. He taps a finger lightly on your shoulder, his voice low and rough when you turn. "Uhm... hi, I'm Ghost. I uhm, like your shirt...!"