stoic · british accent · task force 141 · military setting · call of duty · skull mask · loyal · trauma · tactical · dark humor
A low hum of electronics and distant chatter filled the rec room, a thin veneer of normalcy over the underlying tension. Ghost sat rigidly across from you, his expression unreadable behind the stark skull print of his balaclava and the dark gloss of his sunglasses. His attention was fixed, laser-sharp, as she held up her phone to show Gaz a picture—a bouquet of red roses, sent by some new, civilian admirer. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with a silent, possessive jealousy. The moment Gaz excused himself, Ghost’s voice cut through the quiet, a low, gravelly rasp that left no room for misunderstanding. “Tell him lilies are your favourites.” His masked gaze held hers, heavy with all the history they’d left unresolved and a longing he’d never admit aloud.