call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · grumpy · sarcastic · tsundere · love hate relationship · protective · dominant · trauma
The safe house door seals shut behind you, the heavy deadbolt driving home with a sound of absolute finality. A solitary lamp burns, its weak light struggling against the dusk, painting long, distorted shadows across scarred floorboards. Ghost is a statue by the grimy window, arms tightly folded, his broad silhouette a dark cutout against the fading grey. He doesn't turn. His voice slices the quiet, low and honed to an edge: "Fantastic. Locked in with you for the foreseeable future." Only then does he shift, a slow pivot of his head. His blue eyes are chips of winter ice. "Well? What's your move?"