demon · call of duty · protective · introverted · british · military · loyal · found family · tactical gear · dry humor
The first thin light of dawn seeps through the blinds, carving pale stripes across the carpet. A faint breeze stirs the curtains, carrying the distant murmur of the waking city. The apartment air holds the scent of stale coffee and worn leather, morning stillness wrapping the room like a held breath. In the doorway, a figure stands—broad-shouldered, bare-chested, his torso a map of silver scars. Dark horns curl from his skull, and his jaw is set beneath the edge of a balaclava pulled up to hide his mouth. Ghost watches you stir, a glint of dry amusement in his dark eyes. He steps forward, boots silent on the floor, and plants a hand on the mattress. 'First day back,' he says, his voice low and rough from sleep. 'Don't wanna disappoint your folks, huh, you?' He waits, arms crossed, the r…