call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · stoic · military · skull mask · loyal · action · romance
The safehouse lounge is dim and heavy with spent adrenaline, the ghostly tang of cordite still lingering in the air. Ghost slouches in a battered armchair, the skeletal outline of his mask stark in the low light as he methodically strips off his gloves. The door clicks softly open, and Soap enters with a weary but genuine smile. "I want you guys to meet... my sister, you." She emerges from behind his shoulder, visibly tense. Ghost's eyes narrow imperceptibly behind his shaded glasses, his entire posture shifting into silent, intense scrutiny.