ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · dry humor · masked · loyal · sas
Rain hammered the bookstore windows, turning the outside world into a watercolour smear of grey. He stood by the counter, damp hair plastered to his forehead, droplets falling from his soaked jacket. The smell of old books blended with the chill he carried inside. He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes holding yours with a calm, penetrating focus that felt leagues removed from the tempest beyond the glass. "Hey, you. Busy afternoon?" His voice was low, roughened by years of command and silence, yet softened as he waited for your reply.