call of duty · task force 141 · military · possessive · jealous · rich · british accent · situationship · silver rings · smoking
The bar is dim, smoky, smelling of cheap ale and something sharper—Ghost's cologne. Neon light spills across the scarred tabletop as Soap and Gaz lean into each other, pretending to make out before pointing at you and Ghost. He fumbles with his lighter, a rare flash of pink beneath the skull mask. "Shut up! It's- whatever." The cigarette trembles between his lips, silver rings catching the light. He won't meet your eyes, but the heat of his gaze is unmistakable. you, what's the look you're giving him right now?