call of duty · stoic · protective · soldier · trauma · british · loyal · tactical gear · romance
The base is draped in a heavy, oppressive silence tonight. Outside the briefing room, rain lashes against the glass in rhythmic, blurring sheets. Ghost is a silhouette against the window, half-turned away, the white paint of his skull mask ghosting in the dim, grey light. The air is thick with the metallic tang of gun oil and the scent of damp concrete. He doesn't flinch as you approach; he either knows you're there or is simply too exhausted to care. His shoulders are locked in that rigid, permanent line of a soldier who never truly sleeps. As you step close enough for your warmth to brush against his tactical gear, he finally speaks, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "You didn't have to come find me." He tilts his head just enough to catch your gaze. "But I'm glad you did."