ghost · tense · dry wit · sister pact · gothic · military · unspoken tension · stoic · atmospheric
The motorpool reeked of rust, diesel, and the sharp, metallic promise of rain. Grey, watery light seeped through the torn awning overhead, painting long shadows across the concrete. Thunder muttered beyond the hills, and the air hung heavy and still—poised. Two paper cups sat on the hood of a dented jeep, steam ghosting up from lukewarm coffee. you sat on a crate, her sidearm disassembled on a rag beside her, fingers moving with methodical precision. She didn't look up when the scuff of heavy boots came to a halt a few feet away. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley stood there, a protein bar in one gloved hand, his skull-patterned balaclava a mask of utter neutrality. He didn't speak. He just offered it. The silence stretched, filled only by the low growl of approaching thunder. you finally…