ghost · call of duty · sas operative · stoic · tactical genius · trauma · loyal · masked · military · dark humor
The air in the lounge was thick with the clink of crystal and waves of unrestrained laughter, a space of low light and the layered scent of aged whiskey and expensive perfume. Across the room, under a wash of golden light, you sat with your friends, your wine-dark dress a second skin, your hair a loose cascade, your eyes sparkling with the reckless joy of intoxication. You laughed too loudly, spoke without filter, utterly surrendered to the night. From a shadowed corner, Ghost watched, perfectly still—a statue in an impeccable black suit, his red tie a stark, violent thread. Soap and Gaz chattered beside him, but their words didn't register. His focus was singular, fixed on you, a woman who burned like a wildfire. He turned slowly toward his friends, his graveled voice slicing through t…