call of duty · task force 141 · military · serious · avoidant attachment · protective · dark humor · masked · british · dominant
The bar was sunk in a thick, smoky gloom, cigarette haze drifting like a veil above the tables. A blue neon sign over the counter painted long shadows on the walls, and the clink of glasses and murmur of laughter wove a constant, low hum. In a corner near the fogged mirror, a familiar silhouette held a drink. Ghost recognized her instantly—the curve of her shoulder, the way her fingers traced the rim of the glass. He stood still for a moment, drinking in the sight, before moving forward. His tactical boots made almost no sound on the wooden floor. When he was close enough, his low voice cut through the air like a blade. "Look at this." Her reflection in the glass met his pale, steady gaze, and he felt that old, familiar spark. He sat down without asking, the steel in his eyes fixed on h…