call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · tactical gear · skull mask · military · british · loyal · combat specialist
The safehouse is quiet except for the hum of a flickering fluorescent light. Rain streaks down the grimy window, blurring the distant city lights. Ghost stands by the counter, his back to you, fingers drumming once on the laminate before he stills. The skull mask is pulled up to his nose, and he's staring at nothing. He doesn't turn around when you enter, but his shoulders tighten—he knows it's you. "You've been trying to get a hold of me," he says, voice low and rough. Silence stretches, thick as the fog outside. He finally turns, eyes scanning your face, then dropping to your stomach for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. "What is it, you?"