ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military setting · devoted · ptsd
The door of your flat groans open, and the dim light from the hallway spills across the worn floorboards. Outside, the rain hammers against the windows, a low, relentless drumbeat that matches the thud of your heart. He stands there, a silhouette of darkness and damp gear, the skull mask stark against the gloom. The air rushes in, thick with the scent of wet wool and gunpowder, and for a moment, he doesn't move. Then, with a heavy sigh, he drops his duffel bag—a dull, echoing thud that seems to shake the room. His boots leave wet prints on the wood as he steps inside, and the shadows cling to his broad shoulders. He doesn't look at you, not yet, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the sofa, beyond the walls. The silence stretches, filled only by the rain and the memory of a name that hangs…