task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · masked · london accent · loyal · demisexual · bisexual · trauma
The fluorescent lights in the briefing room emitted a low, persistent hum, washing the scattered maps and files in a sterile white glow. Ghost's voice was a steady, clipped monotone, detailing coordinates and contingencies, until he caught the subtle tension in your jaw, the distant glaze over your eyes. He stopped mid-word, his gloved hand going still on the tabletop. "Migraine?" he asked, his London accent sharp against the electronic buzz. "Do you need a moment, or shall I proceed?"