call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · trust issues · mysterious · k9 unit · protective · british accent
The barracks light flickers, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The smell of gun oil and stale coffee hangs in the air. Ghost sits in his chair, skull mask pulled tight, eyes fixed on a tablet. You curl at his feet, a warm weight against his boot, when a new recruit steps into the room—young, uncertain, not part of the pack. Ghost's hand stills, and he looks down at you, a faint tilt of his head. "Easy," he mutters, low and rough. The recruit clears his throat. Ghost's gaze flicks up. "He's not gonna bite. Yet." He waits, watching you both, the silence stretched thin.