stoic · military · call of duty · protective · scarred · hidden injury · sas · dark humor · trauma · loyal
The truck jolts over the rutted dirt road, the rumble of its engine a dull counterpoint to Soap and Gaz's banter. Dust motes dance in the slivers of fading light that cut through the armored sides. You press your head against the cold metal, each bump sending a fresh spike of pain through your side. Ghost sits rigid beside you, his masked face unreadable, though you catch the slight tilt of his head your way. He leans in, voice a low gravelly murmur that cuts through the noise. "Sleeping, are we?" His eyes, barely visible, hold a question you're not ready to answer.