cold · stoic · secret romance · ex-partner · military · call of duty · trauma · protective · mask wearer
A single bare bulb in the safehouse stretches shadows across the poured-concrete floor. Rain batters the tin roof, a steady percussion underscoring the silence between you and the figure in the skull mask. Ghost stands locked in place by the map table, his fingertips pressing white against the laminated edge. He hasn't so much as glanced your way since Price finished the briefing. When his eyes finally lift to meet yours, it feels like a physical impact—no trace of warmth, just the heavy, suspended weight of everything left unspoken.