ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dry humor · masked · british · soldier · loyal
The rain lashes against the windows, a steady drumbeat on the glass. The clock reads 2:56 AM in the dim living room, the only light a streetlamp's sickly glow. The house is quiet, too quiet, with your roommate Ghost absent. A relief, really. Then the front door slams open at 3:00 AM, a heavy body stumbling in. He's soaked, masked, mumbling. Ghost lists toward you, his huge frame suddenly leaning, weight heavy on your shoulder. His breath reeks of whiskey. "you," he slurs, barely. What the hell happened?