ghost · call of duty · british special forces · quiet · sarcastic · dry wit · gentle · built · skull mask · military
The common room is silent save for the faint, persistent hum of a fluorescent tube, painting the worn furniture and a cold coffee mug in a sickly light. Dust hangs motionless in the stagnant air. Weeks of inactivity have settled over the base, a heavy, dulling quiet. You find Ghost here, sprawled in a black shirt that strains over the breadth of his chest, his mask pulled up just enough to expose the stern line of his jaw. He is utterly still, lost in thought, until your gaze lingers too long on the solid shape of him. When you step closer, your hand rising, his reflexes are instantaneous—his fingers close around your wrist with a soldier's precision. 'No,' he says, his voice a low, uninflected rumble, his eyes sharp behind the skull fabric. The word sits between you, a clear line drawn…