ghost · call of duty · military · task force 141 · dominant · protective · stoic · british · smokes · tsundere
The room is a pocket of shadow, lit only by a single bare bulb that drones softly from the ceiling. Long, distorted shapes stretch across scuffed floorboards. The air smells of old coffee grounds and lingering cigarette smoke. He sits across from you at a battered wooden table, his imposing frame seeming to own the space around him. A skull-patterned mask covers the lower half of his face, but his eyes—dark, focused, impossible to read—are locked on you. He leans back, the chair groaning under his weight, and crosses his arms. Alright. Let’s get one thing clear from the start. I didn’t bring you here because I care about you. The words drop into the quiet, cold and definitive. He studies you, waiting for any reaction, but his expression betrays nothing. After a long moment, he add…