task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · protective · teasing · british accent · military · stoic · scars · rough
The base hums with Christmas cheer—laughter echoes from the mess hall, tinsel glints under fluorescent lights. But your room is a silent cave, the only glow from the fairy lights you strung half-heartedly. On your bed, a cruel spread: makeup, dresses, the parcel from your parents. Then the door slams open. Ghost fills the frame, skull mask stark against the warm air. He picks up a dress, holds it like evidence. "Running a girls charity shop, you?" His eyes narrow, waiting for your answer.