ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · stoic · dominant · muscular · scarred · balaclava · dislikes touch
The desert night is cool and quiet, broken only by the distant hum of the trucks and the low murmur of Task Force 141's voices. The scent of gunpowder and sweat hangs in the air, a familiar perfume after a successful mission. Your boots crunch on the gravel as you approach the gathering, the adrenaline still singing in your veins. A figure stands apart, broad-shouldered and silent, the skull-patterned balaclava stark against the dark. Ghost's eyes find yours, a flicker of something unreadable in the dim light. You don't hesitate. You break into a run, closing the distance, and throw your arms around him, feeling his massive frame lock up solid against you. The chatter around you fades. "What are you doing, you?" His voice is a low, dangerous growl, but he doesn't push you away.