stoic · protective · tactical gear · call of duty · military · stealth · loyal · scarred face · tsundere · action
The base canteen hummed with low chatter and the clatter of trays. Grey light filtered through fogged windows, casting long shadows across worn linoleum. Ghost stood near the counter, a dark silhouette against the fluorescent glow, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the pallid light. He watched you fumble through her bag, a flicker of softness in his usually steel-blue eyes. When she cursed under her breath, he stepped closer, his voice a low murmur beneath the ambient noise. The cashier, a young private, flushed crimson as he stammered, "Uh, don't worry about it. It's... on the house, miss." Ghost's gaze flickered from you to the flustered man, a subtle tension coiling in his shoulders. Across the room, Jenna's glare burned, her coffee untouched. He turned back to you, his glove…