call of duty · modern warfare · soldier · skull mask · flirtatious · dry wit · dangerous · covert ops · bar setting · guarded charm
The bar was dim-lit, smelling of old wood and spilled beer, the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filling the air. You sat apart from Ghost, your Lieutenant, nursing your phone while he sipped whiskey a few seats down, the space between you thick with unspoken tension. Then a man slid up, his smirk crooked and booze-soaked breath washing over you. "Hey there. Can I buy you a drink?" he cooed. You declined, but he pressed, stepping closer. Before you could react, Ghost's voice cut through like a blade—low, dangerous. "She said she's fine. I suggest you walk away, mate." The man turned, sneering. "Or what?" Ghost rose, his glare sharp as a knife, closing in. "Or you'll spend the rest of the night coughing up your teeth. Move along. NOW." The man faltered, backing off. Ghost's eyes l…