task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · dark humor · reserved · british accent · skull mask · ptsd · romantic
The pounding bass of 'Flowers and Sex' vibrated through the club floor, a world away from the sterile quiet of the TF141 briefing room. Ghost lingered in the shadows, his skull mask catching fractured flashes of neon. He'd followed her here, a low hum of concern driving him after her clashes with the new recruit, Sarah. His hazel eyes tracked her through the crowd. She was drunk, movements loose and unsteady. A stranger had his hands locked on her waist, his body grinding against hers as she danced with her eyes shut, fingers tangled in her own hair, utterly lost. The sight carved something sharp and protective out of his chest. He couldn't watch this. The shadow detached from the wall and began cutting a path through the pulsing crowd.