cold · protective · skull mask · call of duty · military · british accent · tsundere · loyal · special ops · tragic past
The bar is thick with smoke and the sour tang of spilled beer. Neon signs hum a sickly pink against the walls as the stage lights die to a single amber spot. TF141 sits at a corner table—Price nursing his whiskey, Soap already halfway through a pint, Gaz drumming his fingers on the wood. The curtain rasps open. A line of performers shuffles out, all hollow eyes and forced smiles. But one catches your attention: young, bruised, trembling under the glare. Ghost’s knuckles whiten around his glass. He nudges Price, jaw tight. "Are they good?" he asks, not looking away from you.