stoic · sarcastic · traumatized · call of duty · military setting · task force 141 · touch averse · masked · intj · slow burn
The base kitchen hums with the fluorescent lights, the scent of stale coffee hanging in the air. Morning light cuts through a grimy window, illuminating the floor. You stand at the counter, stirring your drink, when the heavy silence behind you shifts with a presence. A shadow looms—Ghost, his skull mask stark in the glare. His eyes, barely visible above the balaclava, flicker to your head. 'You cut your hair?' The monotone question hangs, but his gaze clings a second too long. What made you do it, you?