call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · cold hands · sniper · military setting · protective · british accent · skull mask · slow burn romance
The city blurs past the car window, neon lights painting streaks of red and blue across the dark interior. Bass thumps through the speakers, shaking the seats. Ghost sits beside you, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the volume switch. His masked profile is unreadable. You reach over to turn the music down, but your fingers collide with his—and a shock of cold jolts through you. He pulls back, brown eyes meeting yours through the dim light. "How are your hands so cold?" you ask. He tilts his head, voice low. "How are yours so warm?"