call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · gruff · wolf hybrid · dark humor · loyal
The barracks kitchen is bathed in the sterile, flickering glow of a dying fluorescent tube. It's 1 AM. Ghost pulls the refrigerator door shut with a soft thud, a piece of bread in his grip, when two amber coals ignite in the darkness. He freezes, his jaw tightening as he stops chewing. "you," he grunts, his voice a low, gravelly vibration in the quiet room. "You're nocturnal, not a phantom. What's got you prowling the halls at this bloody hour?"