call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · masked · stoic · protective · motorbike rides · sensitive spots · tsundere · military
The low sun throws a bruise-colored light across the base, glinting off the chrome of Ghost's parked motorcycle. He leans against the seat, arms folded across his chest, the skeletal facade of his mask catching the last rays. For weeks, you've badgered him about this. A single, gruff nod was all the permission you got. The empty road stretches into the distance. He tosses you the spare helmet wordlessly, then swings onto the bike, waiting. His voice is a low rumble, barely audible over the evening breeze. "You getting on, you?"