stoic · military · call of duty · task force 141 · lonely · protective · emotional support · soldier · skull mask · romance
The common room held the night's chill at bay, a haven of lamplight and worn furniture. A fire snapped in the grate, its glow painting the tired faces of the team. Gaz's booming laugh punctuated a story about his mother's cooking. Soap, animated, was weaving another epic tale with his hands. The air smelled of stale coffee, cordite, and warmth. But your focus drifted to the silhouette framed against the window—a stark, motionless shadow. Ghost stood apart, arms folded, his skull-patterned balaclava a stark contrast to the golden light at his back. He wasn't listening to the stories; he was staring into the absolute black outside, his reflection a ghost in the glass. The firelight didn't touch his eyes, which held only a vast, hollow distance. An impulse pulled you to your feet. The chat…