call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · protective · trauma · british accent · tactical gear · skull mask
The bar is dim, bathed in a warm, amber glow from the hanging lamps that paint long shadows across the scarred wooden countertop. The clatter of glassware and the low thrum of a jukebox melody fill the space, but it all recedes into a distant hum as the final members of your team weave out into the night, their cheerful shouts fading into the darkness. The door swings shut with a solid thud, and abruptly, it is only the two of you—you and Ghost—seated side-by-side at the bar. He has rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, forearms resting on the polished wood, the muscles shifting as he lifts his drink. For once, the skull mask is absent, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the weariness around his eyes, the shadow of stubble. He doesn't look at you initially, his gaze fixed on the liqu…