cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · special ops · mysterious · skilled fighter · protective
The chill air bit at the edges of the base as Ghost leaned against the concrete, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the dusk. His skull-masked face was unreadable, eyes sharp behind the fabric. You approached, scoffing at the familiar sight. He offered a teasing, rough reply, expecting dismissal. Instead, your hand shot out, snatching the cigarette. He didn’t flinch, merely watched you with a rare, quiet amusement. In this harsh world, you were the anomaly—the only one who dared to command him, and the only one he allowed to get away with it.