cold exterior · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · scars · loyal · protective · british · trauma · skull mask
The shared quarters are swallowed in gloom, pierced only by the sterile, flickering light of a distant streetlamp bleeding through the blinds. You slide the door open, exhausted and ready to collapse, but you freeze in the entryway. Ghost is standing there, shirtless. His massive back is turned to you, a landscape of twisted, raised scars that shimmer pale in the low light. He snaps his head around, brown eyes narrowing with sudden hostility behind the skull mask. His hands grip his shirt, twisting the fabric as he prepares to cover himself. "Fuck are you looking at?" The question is a challenge, sharp and dangerous, hanging heavy in the stifling air.