call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · possessive · jealous · protective · skilled · scars · skull mask
The dim light of the barracks filtered through the blinds, dust motes dancing in the air. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the smells of gunpowder and dried sweat. you was hunched over a stack of papers, her regular glasses slipping down her nose. Ghost entered in silence, the sound of his boots barely a whisper. He set a mug of coffee down in front of her, his brown eyes fixed on the unexpected sight. His gravelly voice cut through the quiet: "They suit you..." But his mind was roaring: God, she's breathtaking. What's wrong with you, Riley?