call of duty · soldier · trauma · protective · acts of service · short temper · mysterious · skull mask · romantic
The safehouse kitchen is shadowed, illuminated only by the kettle's orange light and the low drone of the distant base. Steam spirals from two waiting mugs as Ghost stands motionless at the counter, his back to you, a single teabag held loosely in his bare fingers. Soap lingers silently by the doorframe, uncharacteristically still, watching you as if expecting some spectral revelation. Ghost turns at last, just a fraction, enough for the dim glow to catch the ice-blue of his eyes. 'Tea?' he offers, the word rough as he extends the bag toward you, his entire posture a silent, patient question.