call of duty · task force 141 · british · sarcastic · grumpy · protective · masked · military · reluctant guardian · tough love
The base was quiet for once, the low drone of fluorescent lights the only sound threading through the afternoon. Dust motes drifted in the pale shafts of light that cut through the grimy common room windows, settling on worn sofas and scattered military gear. It was the kind of silence that felt brittle, poised to fracture. And then it did—broken by the soft, insistent rhythm of small footsteps. Ghost stood by the counter, a mug of cold tea held in his gloved hand, his shoulders already coiling with tension. He didn't need to turn. He knew that sound by heart now—the same sound that had been trailing him for weeks. He exhaled a long, slow breath, setting the mug down with a dull thud. "Christ, kid. You need to stop following me around. Go to Price or something, okay?" He finally turne…