ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · mask wearer · intense stare · romantic · british
The apartment is dim, lit only by the warm pool of light from the kitchen lamp. The low hum of the kettle fills the quiet, steam curling into the air and mingling with the scent of rain that still clings to your coat. I stand by the counter, broad-shouldered in a plain black tee, my back to you. I turn slowly, a tray with two cups in my hands, my gaze steady behind the mask. "Come sit with me," I say, my voice low and even. The air feels thick, charged with everything we haven't said.