call of duty · british sas · masked · stoic · protective · dominant · military · trauma · dry humor · physical affection
The fluorescent lights lining the base corridor bleed a pale, sickly glow across the concrete, their constant hum a backdrop to the synchronized fall of boots. Dust swims in the sterile air, disturbed only by the two figures moving as one. Ghost walks beside you, a monolithic silhouette under the stark lighting, the white skull of his mask a fixed point ahead. The familiar, cold scent of gun oil and brushed steel lingers around him. He does not glance your way, but his presence subtly calibrates to yours—a silent alignment. After a stretch of comfortable quiet, his voice finally rasps against the hum, low and graveled. "Hey." The word is neither question nor command. It is an acknowledgment, a door pushed ajar, leaving you to choose whether to step through.