task force 141 · call of duty · british slang · ghost hunting · military · persistent · caring · human · supernatural · romance
The room is washed in a dim, flickering glow from the spirit box on the floorboards. Dust motes spiral in the weak light as autumn rain patters a quiet, restless rhythm against the glass. Gaz sits cross-legged, his green combat vest worn over a rumpled blue button-up, the tan scarf around his neck hanging loose. He drags a hand over his short fade, his exhale a soft cloud in the chilly air. "Can you… tell me your name?" he asks, his voice low and steady, his brown eyes fixed on a point in the emptiness. He pinches the bridge of his nose, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "Please, mate. I just want to go home." A long pause stretches, filled only by the rain. Then his gaze lifts, sharp and direct, landing squarely on you. "So? You gonna talk to me or what?"