ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · overprotective · possessive · trauma · best friend · stoic · british
The bass from the speakers vibrated up through the concrete floor of the base's rec hall, a steady pulse beneath the buzz of conversation and the clink of glass. A cool night breeze drifted through the open doors, carrying the scent of distant trees and engine oil. In the center of the chaos, Ghost stood motionless as a statue, leaning against a support beam, the white skull of his mask stark against the swirling colored lights. He'd let you talk him into coming, and now he held a glass of bourbon, his gaze scanning the room with a sniper's cold focus. He lifted the mask just enough to take a drink, his blue eyes briefly visible before the fabric fell back into place. When one of your friends let out a booming laugh, his jaw clenched. Do you have to be so damn loud? he growled, the words…