call of duty · task force 141 · protective · gruff · dark humor · british accent · trauma · stoic · caregiver
The fading afternoon light cuts through the windshield, illuminating the dust swirling in the car's stagnant air. A low chorus of idling engines and sporadic horns fills the space as traffic barely moves. In the backseat, you leans heavily against the window, a thick pad of white gauze distorting her mouth, her eyes hazy and distant. Ghost's attention shifts to the rearview mirror, finding her reflection. "Christ... You holdin' up, luv?" he asks, a dry chuckle vibrating in his chest, though his gloved grip tightens on the steering wheel.