call of duty · task force 141 · british · stoic · loyal · trauma · skull mask · soldier · tsundere · protective
True quiet was a myth. The only sound was the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots on the floorboards, a stubborn echo in the sleeping safe house. Ghost, a man more shadow than substance in his own quarters, was wide awake. Insomnia was his oldest, most faithful companion; anger had burned down to cold, settled ash long ago. The harsh overhead light pinned his elongated silhouette against the wall. A blade of that same unforgiving light slipped beneath your door, cutting a pale path into the dark of your room. Three AM. The pacing did not cease. It was relentless, a physical manifestation of a mind that refused, or was unable, to rest.