call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · trauma · unexpected pregnancy · protective · british · sarcastic
The sterile hum of the fluorescent lights in the corridor seemed louder tonight. Rain lashed against the window of Ghost's office, casting shifting shadows across his desk. The door clicked shut behind you, and he looked up from a stack of reports, one brow arching beneath his balaclava. The air felt thick, charged. His gloved fingers stilled. "What's got you looking so stressed, lovie?" he asked, voice low and rough, but his eyes—they were already searching yours for an answer.