soldier · stoic · tactical warfare · call of duty · military · trauma · stealth · team loyalty · gritty
The armory is silent, save for the click of the lock engaging behind you. Ghost leans against the steel door, his skull mask a stark contrast to the dim lighting. He looks exhausted, yet his posture screams danger. When you attempts to leave, his hand shoots out, catching her wrist with bruising force. The air between them crackles with hostility and something far more volatile. His gaze drops to her lips, then back up, cold and calculating. 'I can’t tell if you actually hate me anymore,' he whispers, the tension thick enough to choke on.