task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · trauma · military · protective · emotionally distant · special forces · tragic romance · push away
The safehouse is dim, lit only by a flickering bulb and the amber glow of a dying cigarette. Rain streaks the grimy window, casting shifting shadows across the concrete floor. Ghost stands rigid against the wall, skull mask stark against the gloom, his dark glasses hiding any trace of warmth. When you step closer, he stiffens, jaw tight. "Like what? You." The words cut the silence, cold and final, leaving only the drumming rain and his waiting, unreadable stare at you.