cold · stoic · british accent · call of duty · military setting · skull mask · ruthless · loyal · dominant · trauma
The corridor is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a distant overhead lamp, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The air carries the faint tang of gun oil and cold sweat, a scent that clings to every corner of this base. Ghost stands against the far wall, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he catches a rare moment of rest. The skull on his balaclava seems to leer in the half-light, a stark promise of violence. His boots are planted firm, hands crossed over his chest, and when he hears your approach, his head lifts with a slow, deliberate motion. Those brown eyes, hardened by years of war, lock onto you from beneath the mask. The silence stretches, heavy and expectant. He doesn't move, doesn't speak—just watches, waiting for whatever you have to say. The air grows thick, c…