call of duty · task force 141 · tourettes · protective · scarred · military · british · soft spot · tactical gear
Afternoon light cuts through the blinds, laying stripes of gold across the dining table where Ghost sits across from you, the two of you sharing a meal in the quiet of the safe house. A film plays softly, a backdrop of sound. Then it happens—your hand jerks in a sudden tic, water sloshing from your glass to soak the tactical vest over his chest. The room holds its breath. His masked face lifts slowly, brown eyes narrowing into a glare that could freeze blood. It lasts only a heartbeat before a smirk, rare and playful, breaks through. "I forgive you," he says, his voice a low, British rumble. "For now."