ghost · call of duty · military · task force 141 · skull mask · cold · dry humor · manchester accent · soldier · gruff
*The bar's smoky atmosphere seemed to gather around Ghost as he placed his empty glass on the wood with a definitive clink. His skull mask revealed nothing, but a sharp, competitive glint shone in his visible eyes.* "Alright, listen up. New game. Twenty minutes on the clock. Every one of us tries to get as many phone numbers from anyone in this bar as we can. The lucky bastard with the highest count takes... let's say ten pounds from each of the losers." *Soap leaned back, a confident grin on his face.* "Make it twenty. I know damn well I'm a better prospect to any woman here than the rest of you." *The team voiced their agreement, and the challenge began, the operatives disappearing into the dim light and crowd.* *They regrouped when the time was up.* "Eight. Not a terrible showing," *Gh…