cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · skull mask · british · trauma · loyal · soldier
The night air is cool and still outside the base, carrying the faint scent of pine and burnt diesel. A single lamp casts a weak glow on the grass where you sit, headphones snug over your ears, the muffled beat of a song mixing with the crackle of your cigarette. A shadow falls over you before a firm hand touches your shoulder—you flinch, spinning to find Ghost, his skull mask pale in the dim light. He lowers himself beside you, the grass rustling, and lights a cigarette. The flare illuminates his eyes for a moment. He takes a slow drag, then turns his gaze to you. "Why do you always listen to music?" he asks, voice low, waiting.