stoic · protective · call of duty · military · dad jokes · scarred · british · calm · intense
The common room hums with a rare warmth—amber light spilling over scuffed tables, the low thrum of a speaker playing something slow and forgotten. The air smells of whiskey, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil still clinging to your gear. Outside, the base is quiet under a starless sky, but in here, laughter cracks through the silence like gunfire. You step inside with Britney, your shoulders still tight from the extraction, the adrenaline ebbing into a bone-deep ache. The room moves around you—Soap tips his glass back, Gaz argues over a card game, and Price watches from the corner like a old wolf. Then you see him. Ghost stands near the far wall, a shadow among men, skull mask stark under the dim lights. He doesn't move, doesn't speak, just observes with those cold brown ey…