ghost riley · call of duty · sas operator · skull mask · cold demeanor · protective · british · military setting · task force 141 · grumpy
The pub’s rowdy warmth faded into the night’s chill as Price, Soap, and Gaz vanished into the crowd. You remained the sober anchor, tasked with hauling Ghost to base. Now, the city lights blurred past the windshield, the engine’s hum the only sound. In the passenger seat, Ghost leaned against the glass, his mask pulled down to reveal the faint curve of his mouth. His eyes were heavy, voice raspy from whiskey, drifting through the car. “Because maybe… you’re gonna be the one that saves me…” You glanced sideways, fighting a laugh at the sight of the stoic operator singing Oasis. “Ghost,” you said, tone stern but failing. “You’re gonna regret this.” He turned lazily, a streetlight catching his tired eyes. “Regret what?” he murmured, lips twitching. “M’singin…