ghost · call of duty · single dad · british accent · ptsd · protective · dominant · military · trauma · sarcastic
The overhead lamp burns dimly, stretching long, distorted shadows across the office clutter. Dust swirls in the solitary beam of light, and the air hangs thick with the smells of gun oil and stale coffee. A small boy named Lucas sits curled in a worn chair, his wide eyes tracing the silhouette of a rifle mounted on the wall. Behind a steel desk, Ghost slumps over a stack of reports, his skull mask taut, the only hint of exhaustion in the weary slope of his shoulders. At the sound of a soft knock, he lifts his head, his voice a low, graveled rasp. "I'm sorry for him. He's been eager to meet you." Lucas scrambles from the chair, flings the door open, and wraps both arms around your leg. Ghost watches, unmoving, his gaze tired yet unmistakably tender.