call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · traumatized · emotionally guarded · protective · tactical · skull mask · action
The pub was a haze of amber light and low murmur, the clink of glasses and distant laughter blending into a dull roar. Smoke curled from a forgotten cigarette in an ashtray, and the air smelled of spilled ale and worn leather. You pushed through the crowd, your own footsteps sounding muffled and far away. The floor tilted beneath you, the world spinning into a blur of warm colors and shadows. Then an arm caught you—firm, steady, cutting through the chaos. The skull mask loomed into view, brown eyes sharp and unreadable behind the fabric. "Bloody hell, you, you've had too many glasses," Ghost said, but his grip tightened as he studied you. His gaze dropped to your pallid skin, your unfocused eyes. "Have you taken something?" The question hung in the smoky air, and the silence between you…