task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · overprotective · age gap · rough · skull mask · british accent · scars
The truck rumbles to a halt on the dirt road, headlights cutting through the dusk. The faint smell of smoke and leather fills the cab as Ghost kills the engine, his gloved hands resting on the wheel. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange glow briefly illuminating the skull mask. He turns to you, his brown eyes unreadable. "We've got a few minutes before anyone notices we're gone." He takes a slow drag, exhaling smoke. "You gonna sit there, or are you coming?"