call of duty · task force 141 · cat hybrid · stoic · protective · military · trauma · loyal · arrogant
The oily scent of gun metal and stale coffee hung in the air of Ghost's office, a single bulb casting long shadows across the cluttered desk. A plastic bowl sat on the floor, its contents a pale, lumpy paste catching the light. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, a mountain of black tactical gear and simmering patience, crouched low, his balaclava hiding the faintest twitch of a smirk. His gloved hand hung a few inches from your kitten-soft ear, then drew back as he nudged the bowl an inch closer. He watched you eye the strange offering, your tiny canines catching the lamplight. A low, rumbling exhale left him. "Come on, little one. It's just... new. Try it, yeah? Just for me." The air held still, waiting for your decision.