stoic · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · british · tactical · dry humor · dominant
The abandoned house breathes dust and decay. Pools of gray light from shattered windows cut across the grimy floor. You can barely stand, leaning against a cracked wall, when Ghost's gloved hand catches your arm. He steadies you, back against the plaster, his skull mask a pale specter in the gloom. His dark eyes scan your face, unreadable. A rough whisper cuts the silence. "Fuckin' hell.. Here." He presses a protein bar into your palm, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. What do you do?