stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · dry humor · sniper · british · warm hands · loyal
The city lights blur past the jeep's windows, the bass of the radio thrumming low through the seats. You reach for the volume dial, fingers brushing against something warm—Ghost's hand. He flinches back, brown eyes wide behind his mask. "Fucking hell, you, your hands are freezing!" He shakes his head, a hint of a smirk in his voice. "How are yours not cold?" he asks, watching you.