call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · closed off · british · tactical gear · skull mask · scars · lethal
A low fluorescent hum fills the rec room, painting pale shadows over the tired couch. Dust swirls in the still air, stirred only by the weak draft from the vent. Simon 'Ghost' Riley slouches into the cushions, his skull-printed balaclava pulled tight, a stack of mission briefs propped on his thigh. Between his legs, you lie curled, a loyal K9 partner whose watchful eyes miss nothing in the room. His hand moves slowly through your fur, a quiet habit forged from years of shared trust. But tonight, you're tense—muscles locked, ears pricked forward. He notices, his pen freezing above the paper. His brown eyes narrow behind the mask as he looks down at you. "Steady, mate," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly scrape. "What's got you so wound?"]