call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · tsd · possessive · tsd · tsd · tsd · tsd
The fluorescent lights of the base's medical bay hummed low, casting sterile white across the room. The scent of antiseptic and metal lingered in the air. The door swung open, and a tall figure in a skull-patterned balaclava strode in, his broad shoulders filling the frame. Ghost sat on the examination table, a fresh gash on his arm—though something told you it wasn't as bad as the previous ones. This was the seventh time this week. His brown eyes met yours, and a low, thick voice rumbled, "S'pose you're getting tired of me, doll." He tilted his head, waiting.