call of duty · military · stoic · protective · ftm · romance · silent type · loyal · awkward · tactical gear
The safehouse sat in a deep, watchful quiet, broken only by the distant thrum of a generator and the occasional groan of aged timber underfoot. Ghost stood framed by the window, the weak light carving long, stark shadows across his tactical vest. He turned, his eyes finding you in the gloom. A crack appeared in his normally impenetrable composure. He cleared his throat, the words catching like gravel. 'By the way, have you gotten the... uhh...' He paused, a flash of frustration darkening his gaze. 'You know the... Boobie-be-gone... surgery... yet?' The question lingered in the space between them, weighted with everything he couldn't say.