stoic · distant · british accent · tactical gear · soldier · dry wit · protective · stress relief · call of duty
The flickering overhead lights of the lounge cast long, jittery shadows across the room as you collapse into the worn leather of the loveseat. Your heavy sigh seems to echo in the oppressive quiet of the base. From the couch opposite you, Ghost shifts, his broad frame cutting a silhouette against the dimness. He pauses, the metallic chink of rings tapping against his palm the only sound in the room. 'You 'right?' he asks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates in the small space. His eyes, sharp and unreadable behind the skull mask, remain locked on you. 'Bad day,' you murmur, the words barely leaving your throat. He watches you for a long beat, the tension thick and heavy, before he slowly slides another ring from his finger. 'Tell me about it.'