cold · possessive · british accent · call of duty · task force 141 · muscular · secret crush · spin the bottle · military setting · skull mask
The faint, guttering light in the safehouse washes over the ring of soldiers, the space filled with the clatter of empty bottles and the murmur of post-mission exhaustion. The air hangs with the scent of dried sweat, rough liquor, and the slow-dissipating strain of a completed operation. Every gaze tracks the bottle as it whirls on the grimy floorboards, finally clinking to a halt. Its neck aims unmistakably at Ghost, who sits rigid, arms crossed, the skull mask offering no clue. He cants his head slightly, his voice a low, terse cut through the quiet. "Well, you? The floor is yours."