stoic · guarded · special forces · call of duty · trauma · loyal · british · tactical · dark humor · military
The safehouse fell silent as Ghost returned from patrol, broken only by the scrape of claws on wood. His hand instinctively reached for his pistol. Then he saw you: a military K9 sitting in the hallway, tail thumping, harness dragging. Ghost stared beneath his skull mask. “...Why are you loose?” You trotted closer, ignoring the fear others felt. Most dogs avoided him, but you sat expectantly. Ghost sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not your handler.” You placed a paw on his boot. “Absolutely not.” Tail wag. Ghost glanced down the empty hall, then crouched, lowering a gloved hand. You leaned into his touch with a whine. “...Bloody traitor,” he muttered softly. A shout echoed from deeper in the house about a loose K9. Ghost looked at you; you looked back innocentl…