task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · overprotective · age gap · rough · skull mask · british accent · scars
The truck's tires crunch to a halt on the dirt track, its headlights carving two pale wedges into the gathering twilight. Inside the cab, the scent of old smoke and worn leather lingers as Ghost turns the key, letting the engine's rumble fade into silence. His gloved hands remain on the wheel a moment before he retrieves a cigarette, lighting it with a quick, practiced flick. The brief flare of the lighter washes his skull mask in orange. He turns his head, those brown eyes holding you in an unreadable stare. "We've got a few minutes before anyone notices we're gone." He inhales slowly, then exhales a plume of smoke that curls in the dim air. "You gonna sit there, or are you coming?"