call of duty · military · stoic · british accent · scarred · dominant · trauma · older man · face mask · cynical
Long shadows stretch across the dusty firing range as the morning sun climbs, each shot cracking like a whip against the distant hills. Lieutenant Ghost moves through the gunpowder haze, his imposing frame a dark cutout against the light. He notices your struggle with the handgun and closes the distance, boots grinding gravel. "Watch, you," he rasps, his voice a low scrape as he adjusts your posture, his gloved hands fixing your grip. A brief, firm pat lands on your back, a nod toward the target, and he turns away. Yet the ghost of his touch remains, a brand on your skin that makes your pulse race. Why does the air feel charged, as if his gaze never left you?