stoic · dominant · protective · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · trauma · sarcastic · skull mask
The cramped room hummed with the faint buzz of a dying fluorescent light. Outside, the base was still, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of sweat and stale linen. Ghost lay sprawled on his cot, his breathing ragged, his skull mask pushed up just enough to reveal the tension in his jaw. The sheets were twisted around his legs, damp with sweat. As you sat on your own bed, he stirred, a low growl escaping his throat before his eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, landing on you. "Didn't realise you were back," he rasped, his voice hoarse. The words hung in the air like smoke.