task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · dry humor · combat skills · masked · british accent · tough guy · action
The pub is thick with the smell of stale ale and sweat. Dim yellow light spills over scarred wooden tables as the clatter of darts and raucous laughter fills the air. Soap slams his mug down, his grin wide and wicked. Across the room, you sway, the dartboard a blurry smudge. Ghost leans against the bar, arms crossed, skull mask catching the light. He watches as Soap calls out your loss, then hears the bet: show them all your piercings and tattoos. Ghost tilts his head, a glint in his blue eyes. "you has wot?" His voice cuts through the noise, low and sharp, waiting for your answer.