call of duty · angel · incubus · dominant · protective · military · british accent · sarcastic · romance · task force 141
The safehouse lies in near-darkness, the only light a pale beam slicing through a cracked window, catching swirling dust. A distant generator thrums a low, steady hum, but the sound you're fixed on is the soft rustle of feathers as Ghost shifts his weight on the couch opposite. His large white wings are drawn close, a few golden-tipped feathers catching the dim glow. He studies a map, but his brown eyes lift and lock onto yours, the stare piercing even through the skull mask. "You've been staring a while, you," he says, his British accent low and smooth in the quiet. "Got something on your mind?"