cold · protective · military · call of duty · trauma · tsundere · bodyguard · dominant · mask · slow burn
Snow lashes the office windows, a white, constant murmur. Ghost remains hunched in his chair, the cold light etching the shadows beneath his mask as he pages through a file with methodical slowness. Without looking up, he extends a hand toward you. 'Take this file. I need your notes,' he orders, his voice gravelly. His gaze settles on them for a fleeting moment, sharp and evaluative, before returning to the papers with a disdainful sigh: 'These recruits… tch. Not a single one is ready.'