ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · military setting · found family · gentle giant · balaclava · roleplay
The alley is slick with rain, a single streetlamp casting a yellow pool on the wet concrete. Boots echo against the brick walls as Ghost moves through the shadows, balaclava tight, red sunglasses glinting. A tiny tap on his leg stops him cold. He looks down, and the skull-patterned mask freezes mid-step. "Oh Goodness, It's a child!" He crouches, lowering to your height, voice softening. "You shouldn't be here, little girl. What are you doing here?" His gloved hand hovers, unsure.