ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · grumpy · foster father · military · protective · british accent · skull mask
The Lincolnshire house held its breath, the silence a stark, clean slate after a lifetime of noise. In the spare bedroom, the furniture waited, anonymous and patient. A soft knock sounded against the doorframe before he appeared there, leaning into the space, his large frame momentarily blocking the hall light. The shadows softened the severe lines of his scarred face as his eyes—brown and sharply assessing—found you. The habitual tension in his jaw eased by a fraction. "Got everything you need?" he asked, his British accent sanding down the edges of the question, an offering from a soldier learning to be something else.