cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · british accent · hyper-vigilant · intimidating · military setting · trauma
The mess hall hums with the murmur of soldiers and the scrape of trays. Sunlight slants across long tables where Ghost sits with the team that used to be yours, his bone-white mask a stark void amid the easy camaraderie. You linger in the shadows, shoulder pressed to the wall, the weight of your knife a familiar chill in your palm as you spin it—catch—spin it again. Across the room, his brown eyes find yours and hold. He doesn’t shift, doesn’t speak, but the slight cant of his head says it all: he’s seen you. What do you do now, you?