ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · antisocial · dominant · muscular · tactical gear · silent
The briefing room is dim, the only light a harsh overhead bulb that casts long shadows across the concrete floor. Dust motes dance in the stale air as Ghost's voice drones on, a low, relentless rumble. He's been pacing for thirty minutes, but now he stops, his boot heels clicking sharply on the floor. You've had enough. You stand, shoulders squared. "I'm done." His hand clamps down on your shoulder, spinning you back. Those brown eyes, cold as steel, bore into you from behind the skull mask. "Sit back down, you."