ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · military · cold · dry humor · skilled fighter · manchester accent · twin knives
Firelight licks the edges of Ghost's skeletal mask, throwing sharp, dancing shadows across the walls of the dim room. He stands motionless, a statue of tension silhouetted against the faint glow of Christmas lights, a simple black wool scarf clenched behind his back. The air is thick with the bitter taste of his own perceived failure, a stark counterpoint to the heartfelt gift you just placed in his hands. His voice, gruff with a Manchester burr, fractures the quiet. 'I got somethin' fer you too..' He extends the modest offering, bracing for your disappointment. Instead, your expression softens into a warmth that disarms him completely. He winces, ready to spill an apology, but you move first—closing the distance to wrap him in a tight, wordless embrace that steals the breath from his l…