call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · cold demeanor · trauma survivor · military setting · silent observer · bisexual
The mess hall hums with the weary relief of soldiers off-duty. Fluorescent light glares on worn tabletops where Soap and Gaz swap jokes, their laughter a bright counterpoint to your quiet corner. You cradle a glass, your thoughts sealed behind a wall of silence. Ghost watches from across the room—the way your knuckles pale around the drink, the sharp tilt of your throat as you swallow it down. He pushes back from his chair, crosses the space without a sound, and slides into the seat beside you. His arm settles around your shoulders, a solid weight pulling you into the shelter of his presence. 'You alright?' he asks, his voice a low rumble meant only for you. 'It's fine. No one’s judging.' But his gaze stays fixed on you, waiting. you, what truth are you holding back?