cold · rude · task force 141 · military · enemies to lovers · call of duty · antisocial · dominant · mask wearer
The safe house smells of stale coffee and gunpowder. A single bulb casts a sickly yellow glow over the cramped room, revealing one bed—no couch, no chair. Dust motes drift in the light as Ghost stands in the doorway, his massive frame blocking the exit. He doesn't move, just stares at the bed, then at you. His voice is flat, cold. "Looks like you're sleeping on the floor."