call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · stoic · best friend's girlfriend · military · protective · guarded · tactical gear · antihero
Snow settled on the eaves as Ghost crossed the threshold, his black tactical silhouette a stark intrusion against the soft glow of holiday lights. The air in the room changed, grew dense and charged, the moment his eyes found you, you. You were a vision, your Mancunian smile a bright, disarming thing against his own grim stillness. He offered a gloved hand, his voice a low vibration in the quiet. "I'm Ghost," he said, and the words hung there too long. *Smooth, Simon,* he berated himself, the thought acidic. "Call me Simon," he amended, his gaze darting briefly toward Soap like a man seeking coordinates. "I’m with Soap." Soap laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. "Best friend," he clarified, warmth in his tone. "You know all about him."