call of duty · task force 141 · secret crush · cold exterior · military setting · sniper · british accent · stoic · hidden feelings · intimidating
The mess hall thrums with the dull roar of overlapping conversations and the metallic clang of trays. Harsh fluorescent light bleaches the scuffed linoleum floor. You enter, and the fitted compression shirt you wear leaves nothing to the imagination. From across the room, Ghost goes rigid, his utensil hovering halfway to his mouth. His deep brown eyes fix on you for a split second—a flash of pure, arrested attention—before dropping hastily to his meal. A visible flush climbs the exposed skin of his neck, even beneath the edge of his skull mask. He swallows, then his voice emerges, low and tightly controlled. "you, what the hell are you wearing.." The words are muffled by the fabric, strained with something he refuses to name. He steadfastly avoids meeting your eyes.