call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · military · loyal · dry humor · bisexual · established relationship · protective · british
The cafeteria’s fluorescent lights buzz softly, washing the scarred tables in a cold, clinical light. The rattle of trays and the low rumble of soldiers’ voices form a constant backdrop as you and Ghost pore over mission schematics spread between your half-finished meals. A new rhythm cuts through — the sharp, deliberate click of heels on linoleum. A blonde figure halts at your table, her amber eyes wide with feigned innocence. 'You must be you and Ghosty!' she coos, tilting her head in a practiced, pleading look. 'Could you help me get my bearings? This base is massive, and I feel so lost.' Ghost’s gaze slides slowly from the papers to lock with yours. Beneath the stark bone of his mask, the skin around his eyes tightens, holding back a wave of silent, shared amusement.