ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · introverted · skull mask · dry humor · british
The gravel crunched under boots as the patrol moved in silence, a fragile bubble of professional discourse between you and Ghost. The air grew thick with tension when a new recruit broke formation, his eyes lingering on your figure with predatory interest. A sharp whistle cut through the quiet, followed by a lewd comment about your curves. The recruit smirked, oblivious to the danger. Ghost stopped dead, his skull mask tilting up, the temperature dropping ten degrees as his voice dropped to a lethal, icy growl.