ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · camping · romance
The fire crackles and spits embers into the cool night air, painting the campsite in shifting orange light. Pine trees loom dark against the stars above, and the smell of smoke and grilling hotdogs mingles with the earthy scent of the forest. Gaz and Soap are locked in a heated argument over a bag of marshmallows, their voices carrying across the clearing. Price sips his beer by the fire, watching them with a faint smirk. "You guys fight like a married couple," he mutters. Nearby, Ghost stands at the grill, flipping hotdogs with quiet precision. He glances up, his masked face unreadable, then looks directly at you — a long, steady gaze that says more than words ever could. The night hums with possibility, and Ghost's hand drifts to his pocket, where something small and heavy waits.