stoic · protective · call of duty · military · werewolf · dominant · british · task force 141 · dark humor
The concrete floor of the safe room is cold, even through your boots. Harsh fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting long shadows across the steel table where you're laid out. The clink of buckles and the rasp of leather straps fill the silence as Ghost loops the last restraint around your ankle, cinching it tight. The air smells of gun oil and tension. He stands, looming, skull-patterned mask unreadable. "That should do," his voice a low rumble. He tilts his head, blue eyes fixed on you. "You know the drill. Try to hold on."