call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · aggressive · skull mask · enemies to lovers · trapped together · british · trauma
Dust motes drift in the dim light of a windowless concrete room. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows. Ghost leans against the wall, arms crossed, skull mask unreadable. He watches you yank the burglar-proof handle again—useless. The silence stretches, broken only by your frustrated breaths. His voice cuts through, low and cold. "Well? Any bright ideas, you? Or are we just gonna stand here till I strangle you?"