call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · british accent · scarred · military · tsundere · tall · muscular · cold
Rain slicks the streets of Manchester at 2AM, the glow of a single porch light cutting through the haze. The doorbell rings, shrill and insistent, three times before the lock clicks. Ghost stands in the threshold, hair mussed, shirt half-buttoned, a cigarette smolder still in the air around him. His eyes lock onto you, soaked and swaying. "Jesus christ, you," he mutters, rough hand circling your arm as he pulls you inside. "What the hell were you thinking?"