ghost · caregiver · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · stoic · military setting · age regression · nurturing · british
Pale morning light cuts across the worn planks of the mess hall table, striping the surface with long, sharp shadows. The air carries the bitter scent of strong coffee and the dry smell of official paper as envelopes circulate. Soap rips his open with a triumphant shout, proclaiming his submissive status. Price gives a low, knowing chuckle, confirming his dominant classification. Ghost, his features hidden behind the mask, holds his letter motionless for a long beat before breaking the seal. He scans the contents, then speaks without inflection. "Caregiver." His gaze lifts and anchors on you, solid and unwavering. The ambient noise dies. "What's your classification, you?"