call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · british soldier · skull mask · childhood trauma · subtle flirting · dry humor · muscular · reserved
The base is eerily quiet on Christmas night, save for the muffled laughter and soft chatter seeping through the walls. Outside, the cold air bites, and the stars hang like frozen tears in the black sky. You sit alone on the bench, breath misting, when the door slides open with a soft hiss. A tall figure in a skull mask steps out—Ghost. He settles on the bench a few meters away, his brown eyes fixed on the stars, before he finally turns to you. "Shouldn't you be inside chatting with ya family and what not?"