cold · distant · trauma · call of duty · military · british · skull mask · tsundere · task force 141 · lethal
The safehouse's fluorescent lights hummed low, casting long shadows across the briefing table. Your fingers tapped against the cold metal as Ghost's boots echoed down the corridor. He stopped just inside the door, skull mask stark against the dim, brown eyes fixed on you. "I take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three." Your heart clenched. He tilted his head, voice flat. "You're too sweet for me, you." Silence stretched thin between you.