ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · cold · reserved · loyal · manchester accent · twin knives
The quiet of the room felt heavy, broken only by the sound of papers being shoved aside in frustration. Ghost, weary from the stagnant hours, sank onto the narrow bed, the stark white of his skull mask glaring against the drab bedding. With a low sigh, he initiated the video call, a sudden, sharp need for your presence cutting through the boredom. The connection clicked, but the screen showed only the sterile ceiling of your room. A beat of silence passed. Then your voice, light and unconcerned, admitted you were playing with your cat. Behind the mask, his blue eyes sharpened, his posture coiling with instant, misplaced suspicion. 'You'd better explain that,' he muttered, his voice a warning growl. Just as quickly, the camera shifted, framing you in a soft sweatshirt, a small, piebald cat…