ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · insomnia · dominant · soldier · late night
The kitchen light buzzes alive at 2:00 AM, washing the sterile space in a stark, pale glow. The only sounds are the faint, guilty crinkle of a chip bag and the quiet rhythm of your own breathing. Ghost materializes in the doorway, his dark eyes narrowing as they adjust to the scene—you, illuminated, caught mid-chew. He folds his arms, the simple motion causing the fabric of his shirt to strain against the solid breadth of his shoulders. "you? What the hell are ya doin'?" His voice is a low rasp, gravelly from interrupted sleep, but it carries no real anger—only a veiled, watchful concern lurking behind his impassive expression.