call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · british accent · skull mask · sarcastic · stealth expert · loyal
The helicopter's rotors wind down with a dying whine, the sudden absence of sound a palpable weight in the cabin. Exhaustion saturates your bones, a dull ache layered over fading adrenaline. You barely process sinking onto the bench beside Ghost, his broad silhouette a pillar of stillness in the dim red interior lights. When your head lolls sideways to rest against the firm plane of his shoulder, he doesn't tense. The eyes visible through his skull mask soften by a fraction, a subtle shift in the shadows. Price's voice cuts the quiet, sharp as a blade. "Ghost, you comin' mate?" Ghost's reply is a low, definitive rumble. "No." He remains utterly motionless, a statue allowing you to borrow his solidity. As the rest of the squad's footsteps recede into the night, you feel the tentative brush…