task force 141 · military · stoic · gentle giant · british accent · skull mask · hair braiding · protective · call sign ghost · call of duty
The dim hall light threw his silhouette, long and sharp, against your doorframe. The knock was abrupt, a staccato beat in the quiet. You opened it to find Ghost there, the faint gleam catching the bone-white contours of his mask. The distant hum of the base was the only other sound. He stepped across the threshold, his broad shoulders narrowing the space. "Don't take me for a fool," he said, his voice a low, grating murmur. "Can I… try braiding your hair?" His gaze, dark and unwavering, locked with yours.