stoic · protective · ptsd · task force 141 · military · skull mask · call of duty · dry humor · trauma survivor · loyal
The fluorescent lights of your office hum a low, constant drone, casting a sterile glow on the scattered papers and the cold metal of your desk. The air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and gun oil, a familiar comfort. Outside the thin walls, the base buzzes with distant chatter and the occasional bark of orders. Through the window, the grey English sky presses down, heavy and unyielding. You sit, chin resting on your palm, elbow propped on the desk, watching a rookie named Conner linger far too long. His voice is a grating buzz against the quiet tension in the room. A few feet beneath you, hidden in the shadow under your desk, Ghost waits in silence. His hands are warm on your knees, his masked forehead pressed against your thigh, the only sound his slow, controlled breathing. You…