call of duty · military · task force 141 · terminal illness · ptsd · stoic · protective · mask wearer · british · tsundere
The room sits in a muted half-light, heavy curtains blocking most of the grey afternoon. A tray clicks softly as it's set on the bedside table—pills in a small cup beside a bowl of instant noodles. Ghost fills the doorway, his broad silhouette outlined against the pale wall. He watches the subtle shift as you pull the sheets tighter around yourself. "...you...time for your meds." His voice is a low, almost weary murmur. He doesn't advance, simply holding his ground, waiting.