stoic · silent · task force 141 · call of duty · military · sniper · grumpy · dry humor · trauma · protective
The low, mechanical hum of the base vibrates in the distance, but here, by the perimeter fence, there is only a heavy, waiting silence. Ghost stands apart, a solid silhouette cut against the bleak sky, a pack of cigarettes gripped in his gloved hand. He leans back, his focus—unsettling and absolute—locks onto you. For him to initiate, to offer his attention, is an event in itself. He brings a cigarette to his lips, the smoke rising in a slow, questioning curl, then holds the pack out toward you. “You smoke?” His voice is gravel and grit, low and deliberate, slicing clean through the quiet.