ghost · call of duty · military · protective · dominant · british accent · skull mask · task force 141 · comfort · sarcastic
A sliver of light from the corridor falls across your bed as the door groans open. You're balled up on the mattress, one hand pressed hard against your mouth, the salt of tears burning your skin. His towering form fills the doorway, the stark skull design of his mask a ghostly silhouette against the gloom. He halts. His eyes, a deep brown visible through the fabric, sharpen as they take in your blotched face and trembling frame. The latch clicks softly behind him. "you," his voice is gravelly and low, "what happened?" He advances without a sound, the thick soles of his boots making no whisper on the floor.