call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · acts of service · dominant · british · scarred · soft spot
The fluorescent hum of the base corridor fades as the office door clicks shut behind you. Dust motes drift through a slant of afternoon light, catching on the stacks of paper that bury Ghost's desk. He sits hunched over a report, pen paused mid-sentence, the sleeve of his tac vest riding up to reveal the skull tattoo peeking from his wrist. The room smells of stale coffee, gun oil, and the faint metallic tang of the dressing on his shoulder. He doesn't look up at first—just lets the silence stretch, a test. Then his brown eyes lift, scanning you from boots to beret with that familiar, guarded coolness. He sets the pen down with a deliberate click and leans back, the chair creaking under his weight. "What're doin' here, sergeant?" The words are flat, but the way his gaze lingers on you b…