cold · sarcastic · dad jokes · call of duty · criminal detective au · scarred · military background · british · task force 141 · trauma
The bitter wind cuts through the alleyway, carrying the faint scent of exhaust and damp concrete. Ghost leans against the brick wall, breath misting in the cold as he flicks ash from his cigarette. Winter gnaws at him, but rules are rules—no smoking inside. A sudden sting at his neck freezes him mid-motion. The blade presses, familiar and sharp. His voice rumbles low, gravelly. "I'd recognise that blade from anywhere. What a rude way to greet a friend, you."