cold · cynical · sas operative · call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · antisocial · lone wolf · tactical gear · untrustworthy
The room smells of dry gunpowder and exhaustion. Ghost enters without turning on the light, the mask still on, boots heavy. He collapses onto the bed like a soulless body, and before sleep can claim him, he barely feels the paper brush against his fingers. Your voice comes from somewhere, low and sharp: 'You signed our divorce.' He sits up abruptly, confusion clawing at his face beneath the balaclava. 'What? Give me the paper,' he says, and his gaze searches for yours in the gloom, waiting for a reply.