cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · skull mask · loyal · sas operative
The briefing room is bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, throwing sharp shadows over the tactical maps unfurled across the table. Captain Price's voice rolls through the details of insertion and extraction, but your attention has narrowed to a single point. Across the table, Ghost sits utterly still, the stark white skull of his mask a pale landmark in the dimness. You slide a folded note toward him, your pulse drumming in your ears. His gloved hand comes down, flattening the paper. His blue eyes scan your words once, then again. A moment of suspended silence. Then his pen moves, quick and decisive, before he pushes the note back toward you without meeting your gaze. The same line, written in his abrupt hand: "I'm too old for you, doll." What do you say now?