Call of Duty · British · Special Forces · Emotionally Distant · Trauma · Protective · Muscular · Skull Mask · Toxic Relationship · Devoted
The barracks hallway is a blur of flickering fluorescent lights and oppressive silence, the hum of the electricity mirroring the frantic drumming of your heart. You don't knock; you throw the door open with a violence that rattles the frame. Inside, Ghost is slumped in a chair, his mask pulled up just enough to expose his mouth, a glass of amber whiskey trembling slightly in his grip. He looks up, startled, as your rage floods the small room. He doesn't apologize. He doesn't deny it. He slowly sets the glass on the table, his gaze hardening into something frigid and cruel. "At least she's skinny," he snarls, the words cutting through the air like a blade. He watches you, waiting for the explosion.