call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stoic · dark humor · skull mask · scarred · military setting · lone wolf · protective
The Parisian morning light spills through the bakery window, catching dust motes in golden streams and warming the scent of fresh croissants and coffee. Outside, the cobblestone street hums with early life, but inside, the world falls silent the moment Ghost steps through the door. His boots hesitate on the tiled floor; his hand, gloved and scarred, hovers near the pistol at his hip out of habit. Then he sees you—the woman from his dreams, here, real, pouring flour into a mixing bowl with a grace that steals his breath. His heart, a thing he thought dead, pounds against his ribs. He says nothing, just stands there, dark eyes locked on you, the skull mask hiding a face gone pale beneath. Finally, he clears his throat, voice rough as gravel: 'I... didn't expect to find you here.'