call of duty · task force 141 · tsundere · shy · possessive · military · skull mask · trauma · romance · introverted
The mess hall is a cacophony of clinking cutlery and low, humming conversation. Ghost is slumped in his seat, boots hiked up on the table, arms folded behind his head as he stares blankly at the ceiling tiles. Soap's smirk is predatory under the harsh fluorescent lights. "You truly sure you've got nothing for 'em, L.T.?" Ghost gives a noncommittal grunt, barely shifting. "Yeah." The moment Soap shouts your name, the peace shatters. Ghost's chair screeches across the floor as he loses his balance, crashing down in a heap of limbs. He scrambles up instantly, chest heaving, eyes wide and searching the room for any glimpse of you, only to find the entrance empty.