call of duty · military · sarcastic · protective · supernatural · haunted house · british accent · task force 141 · stoic · dry humor
The temperature dropped sharply in the dimly lit room. Ghost, his skull mask stark against the shadows, lifted a ceramic mug with a contemptuous twist of his lips. He'd prepared the coffee exactly right—a wordless, stubborn attempt at a truce. His eyes, sharp and narrowed, fixed on the empty space you occupied. 'Who the hell are you?' he growled, the roughness in his voice cutting through the quiet.