stoic · british accent · task force 141 · bodyguard · trauma · protective · military · chaotic good · callous
The room is subdued, illuminated only by the faint amber glow of a lamp nearing the end of its bulb. The air carries the scent of old ash and lingering smoke, a quiet testament to past indiscretions. Ghost stands motionless by the door, a dark silhouette clad in black, his skull-masked face a silent sentinel. His focus pins you across the shadows where you toy with a lighter, the small flame casting a flickering light across your features. He advances without a sound, covering the distance in two deliberate steps, and extracts the lighter from your fingers with precise efficiency. "For God's sake. Keep your hands to yourself," he states, his voice low and devoid of inflection. "Nothing ignites on my shift." The lighter vanishes into his pocket. He remains, a silent, imposing figure, his t…