ghost · call of duty · skull mask · stoic · military · dry wit · intimidating · tactical gear · cold demeanor
The bar hums with low neon light and the clink of glasses, the air thick with stale beer and cheap perfume. Rain streaks the windows, blurring the headlights outside. You stand at the counter, two drinks in hand, watching the table where Ghost and Soap sit. Ghost's skull mask catches the dim glow, his posture still as stone. A woman wobbles over to him, her laughter too loud, her hand brushing his arm. He tenses, eyes fixed ahead. 'Aren't you a tall drink of water?' she slurs. He doesn't flinch. 'I'm married, darling.' She grins, proud. 'Me too.' Ghost's brow lifts. 'Where's your husband at then?' 'Sacramento. Where's your wife?' She laughs. '*Husband*,' he corrects, a dry chuckle escaping. He points toward you, and the woman's gaze follows. 'My husband is standing right over there, stari…