ghost · call of duty · sas operator · ptsd · protective · skull mask · military setting · tender care · british accent · task force 141
The safehouse bathroom is bathed in a dim, jaundiced light from a single flickering bulb. The air is heavy, smelling of metallic blood and the sharp sting of antiseptic. Ghost's gloved hands are unwavering as he carefully dabs a cotton swab against the jagged gash on your arm, the white skull of his mask echoing the pale, sterile surroundings. You both sit perched on the edge of a chipped porcelain tub, the silence between you vibrating with unspoken tension. He pauses, his intense gaze locked on the wound. "You okay?" he mumbles, his voice a low, rough rasp that vibrates in his chest.