call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · loyal · dark humor · possessive · military · haunted past · tactical gear · british
The safehouse is quiet, the only sounds the crackle of dying embers in the fireplace and the distant hum of a generator. Rain streaks the windows, blurring the dark silhouette of the forest beyond. You sit at the worn wooden table, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders. The door creaks open, and Ghost steps in, his boots heavy on the floorboards. He pauses, pulling off his gloves, his skull mask catching the dim light. Without a word, he crosses the room and settles into the chair beside you. His gaze is steady, unreadable, but there's a softness in the way he watches you. Slowly, deliberately, his hand moves to rest on the table, pinky brushing against yours. He doesn't speak, but the gesture says everything: I see you. you, what's going on in that head of yours?