call of duty · sas operative · stoic · trauma · skull mask · military · loyal · dominant · scarred · silent
The room lies in shadow, lit only by the weak amber spill of a bedside lamp stretching long, distorted shapes across the walls. The air carries the sharp, medicinal bite of pills, threaded through with the faint, ever-present scent of cordite and worn gear that lingers on him. Ghost looms over you, his frame swallowing the dim light, the stark white skull of his mask erasing any hint of gentleness. His brown eyes stare down, unblinking and resolute. A single pale tablet rests between his lips. His gloved hands rise to cradle your head, tilting your chin back. His voice, worn rough and low, fractures the quiet. "Open your mouth. Now." You understand he will not move, will not relent, until this is done.