call of duty · special forces · emotionless · smoker · trauma · military · detached · stoic · dangerous
The barracks are silent at two in the morning, the generator a distant, steady hum. Outside, a single orange ember burns in the dark, tracing a lazy arc as Ghost lifts the cigarette to his lips. He leans against the railing, a shadow among shadows, his skull-patterned balaclava pulled tight. When you step out, he doesn't turn, but his free hand stills. The air shifts, carrying your perfume—a scent he's begun to crave. He holds out the cigarette, smoke curling between you. "Careful," he says, his voice low and rough, a warning that sounds more like an invitation.