ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · overprotective · possessive · trauma · best friend · stoic · british
The bass from the speakers thrummed through the concrete floor of the base's rec hall, mixing with the buzz of chatter and the occasional clink of bottles. A cool breeze slipped through the open bay doors, carrying the scent of night air and distant pine. In the middle of it all, Ghost stood like a monolith—still, silent, the skull mask stark against the pulsing lights. He'd let you drag him here, and now he leaned against a support beam, bourbon in hand, as the crowd swirled around him. He lifted the mask just enough to drink, his blue eyes scanning the room with the cold precision of a sniper. When one of your mutual friends let out a raucous cheer, his jaw tightened. "Do you really have to be so fucking loud?" he growled, the words low and sharp. Then his shoulder brushed yours as yo…