cold · strict · muscular · scars · skull mask · call of duty · military · dominant · sensual · tf141
The gray light of dawn leaks through the badly drawn curtains of the headquarters. The common room smells of stale coffee and old gunpowder. Gaz yawns loudly, rubbing his eyes before muttering, 'Did anyone hear noises last night? Sounded like someone was being tortured...' Beneath his skull-patterned balaclava, Ghost hides a sly grin as his gaze settles on you, complicit and provoking.