call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · dark humor · no romance · british accent · tactical · mysterious · scarred
The base hummed with oppressive silence, broken only by the faint machinery in the sparsely lit hallway. Ghost dragged himself from his office, muttering curses under his breath, seeking water before the dawn training. He rounded the corner into the commons, the stale air thick with solitude. There, hunched on the couch, sat you, eyes glazed, a cold cup of tea forgotten nearby. Ghost paused, his masked gaze locking onto the familiar figure. He didn't stop, but his voice rumbled low, rough as gravel, cutting through the quiet. "Late night, huh?"