call of duty · sas operator · stoic · trauma · british · protective · skull mask · dry humor · loyal
The sterile, electric hum of Ghost's office is the only sound cutting through the silence. He sits like a statue, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms mapped with scars and dark ink, his focus buried in a stack of reports. You lean against the desk, the weight of boredom heavy between you. Reaching out, you snatch up a pen and begin to trace the lines of his tattoos, adding new, whimsical marks over the remnants of old wounds. He doesn't flinch; he doesn't even look up. Instead, he slowly shifts his arm toward you, a silent, unspoken invitation to keep going.