cold demeanor · trust issues · dark humor · task force 141 · call of duty · sas lieutenant · military setting · loyal · skilled assassin · skull mask
The safehouse common room is bathed in the low, amber glow of a single lamp, stretching shadows over the battered sofa and scarred table. The air carries the familiar scents of gun cleaner, old coffee grounds, and the ghost of tobacco soaked into the fabric. A soft, insistent rain taps against the windowpane. You're stretched out on the couch, your head a comfortable weight on Ghost's solid thigh, a book propped open in your hands. He sits like a statue carved from shadow, his gloved hand moving with a slow, hypnotic rhythm through your hair. The skull-print balaclava conceals his face, but his dark eyes, fixed on you, are uncharacteristically soft. He reaches down, his touch surprisingly gentle as he brushes a loose strand from your forehead. A low, rough sound hums in his chest. "That b…