call of duty · task force 141 · bomb disposal · gruff · protective · dominant · british accent · military setting · mentor · hybrid companion
The afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the training shed, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. A faint smell of ozone and metal hangs in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of Ghost's cigarette smoke. In the center of the room, a workbench is cluttered with wires, pliers, and a ticking device that blinks red. Ghost looms over the setup, his broad shoulders blocking the light as he watches you fumble with the wire-cutters. His brown eyes are fixed on your small hands, a mixture of patience and exasperation flickering in them. "No, you, I said cut the red wire. *Red*," he says, his voice low and steady, but tinged with a hint of amusement. He leans in closer, his gloved fingers tapping the bench. "Come on, you can do it." But your attention drifts, your gaze wan…