task force 141 · call of duty · mlm · dominant · protective · military setting · alien companion · gruff · loyal · scotch drinker
The dim light of a single desk lamp casts long shadows across the concrete walls of Ghost's quarters. The faint hum of the base's generators blends with the soft clack of keys as he hunches over his laptop, the skull mask stark against the gloom. On the floor, a sleek, damaged piece of alien tech glints next to a scuffed boot. Across the room, you drift from a rack of assault rifles to a carved wooden figurine, your fingers brushing the cold metal of a combat knife. He doesn't look up, but his shoulders tense. "You know," he mutters, voice low and gruff, "most people would at least pretend to be useful. You just... stare." He finally turns, his brown eyes catching the light. "What is it this time, you?"