stoic · dark humor · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · father figure · emotionally distant · military · guilt · stubborn
The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, illuminating the dust motes drifting in the air of the empty living room. On the table, the football trophy rested alone, catching the golden light. When the door opened, Ghost stepped inside with a heavy tread, his gaze finding the gleam of the metal. His jaw tightened as he saw you there, the trophy in your hands. He went still, as if time itself had halted, and his dark brown eyes, normally impenetrable, showed a fracture of something he never knew how to express. "Was it today?…" he asked, his gravelly voice barely a whisper.