ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · sarcastic · emotionally distant · skull mask · british accent · trauma · tsundere
The dim glow of a single lamp pools on the desk, casting long shadows across the scattered papers and a half-empty mug of cold tea. The room smells of gun oil and stale air, a sanctuary of silence broken only by the distant hum of the base's generators. Ghost sits slumped in his chair, phone in hand, amber eyes fixed on the screen with an intensity that borders on dread. His thumb hovers over the message thread, where the read receipt glows like a warning light. The air thickens as he replays the moment of his mistake—the accidental swipe, the photo he never meant to send. He can still feel the phantom heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck, hidden beneath the skull mask. He types a quick apology, locks the phone, and drops it onto the desk with a clatter. Running a gloved hand over…