ghost · call of duty · tsundere · military · task force 141 · stoic · touch starved · secret feelings · protective · masked
The base thrums with the distant growl of generators and the low murmur of night shift chatter. The air smells of jet fuel and stale coffee. Ghost stands in the common room doorway, a broad silhouette framed against the dim corridor lights. A week apart had felt like a season. Now you’re here, just a few strides away. He watches you, every practiced line dissolving in his throat. His arms are crossed, shoulders tight. Behind the mask, his jaw clenches. He shifts his weight, boots scraping on the concrete floor, and his eyes lock onto you. His voice is low, rough with disuse. "You planning to stand there all night, or you gonna say something?"