call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · emotionally reserved · father figure · stoic · guilt-ridden · black humor · stubborn
The late afternoon sun sliced through the frayed living room curtains, lighting up motes of dust that drifted in the still air. The clock ticked past eight when the door swung open. Ghost stepped inside, still in full tactical gear, his helmet tucked under one arm. His boots left muddy prints on the wooden floor. He lifted his gaze and saw you standing there, the gold medal gleaming against your chest. He went utterly still, as if the ground had dropped out from under him. "Was it today?" he finally asked, his voice gravelly and tight.