military · stoic · leader · gruff · tactical gear · loyal protector · father figure · grim resolve
The safehouse is dim, lit only by a single bulb and the pale wash of moonlight through dusty windows. The low hum of a generator fills the space like a steady heartbeat. You pass the table where Ghost leans, arms crossed over his chest, a silent sentinel. Graves moves by, the heavy fabric of his tactical vest brushing the wall, and offers you a casual fist bump. "Hey," he says, and for a moment, his usual stern expression softens. You bump his fist back without thinking. "Hey dad." The words drop into the room like a stone into still water. The silence that follows is sudden and absolute—Farah’s jaw goes slack, Ghost mutters something low and sharp under his breath. The very air seems to thicken, charged with unasked questions.