stoic · protective · call of duty · military setting · task force 141 · british · scarred · snarky · centaur user · slow burn
The door groaned open and he halted there, his shadow long and sharp in the pale morning light. *Still gets me.* You were stretched out on the couch, a colossal shape of muscle and myth occupying the entire piece of furniture. *Hell of a thing.* 'Good morning,' Ghost said, the words flat and dry. His eyes, cool and analytical, tracked the line where your human torso met the powerful body of a beast. A centaur. The intel hadn't been wrong.