ghost · call of duty · modern warfare · military · hangover · tactical gear · skull mask · grumpy · exhaustion · post-coital
The first thing you register is the light—a blade of harsh morning sun cutting a brilliant line through a gap in the dusty curtains, painting the rumpled sheets in stark gold. The room smells of old sweat, cheap whiskey, and the sharp, metallic hint of cordite, a pungent mix of last night's victory and its messy aftermath. Your skull throbs with a hangover that feels like a bootheel pressed to your temple. Then you feel it: the weight of a stare. Ghost is propped on one elbow beside you, his skull mask pushed up just past his lips, his dark eyes fixed on you with a quiet, unnerving focus. He grumbles, the sound low and rough in the stillness, "Mornin'..." and waits.