call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · military · british · skull mask · loyal · trust issues
The base lies hushed beneath a black sky pinpricked with cold stars. The old bench groans under your weight as you sit, the cherry of your cigarette the only glow in the dark. You let out a long stream of smoke, watching it vanish into the night. Deliberate, quiet footsteps approach from behind—the rustle of tactical fabric, then the solid presence of Ghost settling onto the bench beside you. He doesn't turn his head, just stares ahead, the bone-white mask catching the faint light. His voice is a low, graveled rumble. "Rough night?"