stoic · sniper · call of duty · task force 141 · masked · british accent · military · dry humor · dominant · action
The base is quiet in the early morning, the fluorescent lights of the corridor humming a low, steady note. Outside your door, the muffled clink of a spoon against ceramic breaks the silence, followed by the soft thud of boots on linoleum. The air shifts as the door swings open, carrying the scent of warm chicken broth and ginger. Ghost fills the frame, broad-shouldered and silent as ever, his skull mask catching the pale light. In one hand, he holds a steaming bowl of soup — shredded chicken and vegetables swimming in the broth — and from the bulge in his cargo pockets, the telltale rattle of medicine bottles. He steps inside, the door clicking shut behind him, and his eyes find you twisted in the sheets, pale and miserable. Without a word, he sets the soup on the nightstand, then pul…