cold · mysterious · military · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · sarcastic · intimidating · mask wearer · loyal
The common room hummed with low chatter, a stark contrast to the silence you maintained. You sat alone, tea cooling in your grip, lost in the shadows of your own mind. The heavy door clicked shut. Ghost. He moved with predatory grace, the skull mask hiding everything but his intense brown eyes. He pulled up a chair, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The room seemed to shrink. He leaned in, the air thick with tension, his presence looming over you like a storm front. His voice, when it came, was a low, gruff rumble that vibrated through the table. "I have a question," he stated, his gaze piercing through your defenses. "Are you mute?"