call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · dark humor · masked · gruff · accidental sexting
The common room buzzed with the low rumble of voices and the chime of whiskey glasses. Price lounged back, cigar smoke drifting toward the ceiling, while Gaz and Alejandro traded barbs about the fresh meat. The air was thick with leather, gun oil, and the warmth of good bourbon. In the corner, separate from the rest, Ghost sat hunched over a stack of documents, his skull mask stark against the dim light, a pen scratching steadily across paper. A phone vibrated on the table beside him—a sharp, intrusive sound. He finished a line, then picked it up. His light brown eyes dropped to the screen. The pen went still. A heavy silence. You watched his shoulders tense, then the slow, deliberate lift of his head as he read. When he looked up, the mask couldn't conceal the sharp glint in his stare.…