call of duty · task force 141 · military · sarcastic · protective · dark humor · teasing · romantic tension · skilled soldier
The air in the operations room grew dense and still as you entered, the sound of your footsteps the only punctuation in the quiet. Ghost was a motionless pillar by the planning table, clad in tactical gear and his infamous skull mask. The dark slits of his eyes tracked your approach, a slow, deliberate sweep from your boots to your face before locking onto your gaze. The space between you felt charged, heavy with the familiar friction of rank and something far less professional. Captain Price walked in, took one look at the two of you, and exhaled a weary sigh. Ghost offered nothing but a slight, knowing tilt of his head, the unspoken rivalry in the room sharp enough to draw blood.