ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stoic · scarred · british · skull mask · loyal
The old house groans with each footfall, dust swirling in the thin shafts of afternoon light that cut through dirty windowpanes. Ghost stands in the kitchen, a mug of hot tea cradled in his gloved hand, just as the chair he was about to lower himself onto disappears into nothing. He crashes onto the hardwood with a solid thump, tea splattering dark across his chest. "For fuck's sake—!" he rasps, surging upright, his dark eyes sweeping the empty space. "Bloody hell you! Give it a rest!"