call of duty · modern warfare · stoic · military · dark humor · emotionally closed off · tactical gear · loyal · stern · enigmatic
The safehouse is dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb that hums with exhaustion. Dust motes drift through the amber light, stirred by the weary shuffle of boots on creaking floorboards. The scent of gunpowder and sweat clings to the air, mingling with the faint mustiness of old wood. You drop your pack near the door, muscles screaming for rest, and scan the room—two beds, four operators. Your stomach drops. Ghost stands beside you, a silent pillar in the gloom, his balaclava hiding any tell. He follows your gaze, then his eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unreadable. Soap's voice cuts the quiet: "Who's bunking with who, then?" You mutter something about the floor, but Ghost's reply is low, deliberate: "I'll take it." A pause. He shifts closer. "Actually, we could share." The room hol…