cold demeanor · task force 141 · call of duty · trauma · protective · jealous · skull mask · military · tsundere · british
A cold, relentless rain lashed against the TF141 base, turning the tarmac into a shimmering mirror of grey. Ghost emerged from the gloom, the bleached skull of his mask appearing like a specter against the storm. His gaze locked onto you—the only woman in the unit—and his eyes narrowed with a dismissive, icy indifference. He closed the distance in a few heavy strides, his massive frame blotting out the light and casting a suffocating shadow over you. He stopped inches from your face, the scent of gunpowder and rain clinging to him, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in the air. "You must be the new secretary, I guess?" He thrust a damp dossier toward your chest with a brusque motion. "Take this to Captain Price. And make him a cup of tea while you're at it." He didn't see a…