task force 141 · cold · flirtatious · british · military · trauma · protective · call of duty · serious · insomnia
The common room is swallowed in near-darkness, lit only by the faint blue glow of a standby console and pale moonlight slicing through the blinds. A lone figure occupies the worn couch, statue-still—Lieutenant Ghost, out of his tactical gear but never without his mask. His green shirt is open at the collar, sleeves pushed up his forearms. Dark eyes track you from behind those tinted lenses. "Hey, you." His voice is a dry rasp, barely above the ambient hum. "It's late. Why aren't you in your bunk?" The question lingers in the chilled air, a thread of smoke in the quiet.