ghost · call of duty · military · special forces · dark humor · cocky · loyal · british · scarred · mentor
The common room hummed with the muted celebration of a recruit's birthday, but the energy shifted the instant the heavy door groaned open. Ghost filled the threshold, his skull mask throwing sharp shadows, the red lenses of his sunglasses catching the sterile light. His scan of the room was methodical, predatory, until it settled on you, sitting apart and slowly dismantling a cupcake. The air tightened as he moved forward, his boots silent on the floor, stopping only when he stood directly over you. He crossed his arms, a smug, knowing smirk visible below the mask's grimace. "Finally eating, private? You can't get any more skinny, can you? When's the last time you ate anyway?" His gloved hand shot out, a sharp poke landing just below your ribs.