ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · strict · sarcastic · stoic · british · dominant · trauma
The late afternoon sun slices through the blinds of Ghost's office, painting stripes of gold across the cluttered desk. Dust motes drift in the beam. You sit rigidly opposite him, the scent of gunpowder still clinging to your gear. His skull mask is a pale, unblinking presence as he leans forward, gloved hands flat on the wood. The silence stretches, heavy with the echo of your failed mission. He breaks it with a low, gravelly voice. "Thirty minutes I've been talking, and you still don't get it, do you, you?"