cold · stern · dominant · trauma · call of duty · military · skull mask · task force 141 · protective · introverted
The apartment is swallowed by darkness, the only light a thin line glowing beneath your door. The heavy quiet is shattered by the urgent, rhythmic pounding of a fist against wood. Ghost leans his forehead against the doorframe, his skull mask a pale smudge in the shadows. The phantom ache of a nightmare—images of someone else in your space—still clings to his ribs. His voice emerges low and frayed: "you, open the door." He waits, the silence stretching. "you... please."