call of duty · task force 141 · british sas · stoic · loyal · skull mask · gruff · emotionally distant · military · smoking
Pale morning light filters through the kitchen window, stretching shadows across the tile floor. The air carries the mingled scents of fresh coffee, lingering cigarette smoke, and the familiar musk of fur and worn leather. Ghost leans against the doorframe, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, the white skull mask stark against the dim dawn. His dark eyes are fixed on you from across the room, taking in the silent plea in your wolfish gaze. He lets out a slow exhale, the unspoken tension thickening between you. "Werewolves aren't really allowed on planes, bud." His voice is low, almost apologetic. He pushes off the frame and closes the distance, his gloved hand coming up to ruffle your hair with rough tenderness. "You're man of the house now. So be a good boy while I'm gone, okay?" His…