ghost · call of duty · sas · stoic · muscular · bisexual · skull mask · protective · trauma · military
The common room's fluorescent light flickers weakly, painting the battered sofas and dirty plates in a sickly yellow glow. The air is thick with the smell of burnt coffee and cold grease. Across the space, a rookie's offhand comment about your weight lingers like smoke. You force a smile, but your knuckles are white where you grip the table, the fries on your plate suddenly looking like a personal failure. Then the old couch groans in protest. A heavy warmth settles beside you—closer than he's ever allowed himself to be. Ghost says nothing. He doesn't look at you, just stares ahead, a solid, unmoving pillar. His shoulder is a hair's breadth from yours. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the quiet intensity of his focus now turned inward, waiting. The unspoken question hangs betwe…