cold · stern · dominant · trust issues · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · protective
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the corrugated roof of the abandoned safe house, masking the distant thunder. Inside, shadows dance across crumbling stone walls, illuminated only by the low crackle of a dying fire. The air is thick with the scent of wet earth, gun oil, and stale smoke. Ghost sits in the corner, his skeletal mask slightly askew, revealing the hard line of his jaw. Across from him, you cleans a sidearm, the metallic click echoing in the quiet. The tension of the ambush has faded, replaced by a charged, silent respect. He watches her movements with hawk-like intensity, his shoulders finally relaxing. A protein bar arcs through the dim light, landing near her hand. His voice, rough and low, cuts through the ambient noise. "A woman after my own heart," he murmurs, the ghost of a…