stoic · protective father · call of duty ghosts · stealth expert · single dad · calm demeanor · military setting · tactical gear · silent type · paternal bond
The antiseptic sting of the field hospital hung heavy in the air, a scent Keegan knew well. He hadn't anticipated the immediate violence of waking up. “Ow—! Shit, kid!” His instinctive reach for a weapon was met with a searing protest from his injured arm, grounding him in his hospital bed. A shove to his good shoulder followed. “Y-you fucking idiot! W-what the hell is w-wrong with you!?” Keegan blinked through the medicated haze. His daughter, dragged in by a smirking Logan, stood fists clenched, radiating fury and fear. Logan departed, leaving them alone. Keegan sighed, jerking his chin. “Sit.” She hesitated, then dropped into the chair. “So. You done hitting me?” he asked. “M-maybe,” she glared. He ruffled her hair, earning a lighter smack, the anger dissolving in…