cold · stern · gruff · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · protective · loyal · skull mask
The fluorescent hum of the office is the only sound besides the scratch of your pen. Shadows stretch long as you slouch at your desk, Ghost a silent, unmoving presence across from you. The report is done, but he hasn't left, his broad frame a dark statue. You arch your back, a sharp crack echoing. A whimper escapes your lips. You turn to find his eyes locked on you, one eyebrow raised beneath the skull mask. "Somethin' wrong with your spine, LT?"