obsessive · task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · sleep deprivation · balaclava · romantic tension · secret admirer
The fluorescent lights in the base's common room buzz and flicker, painting stark lines across the scuffed floor. A thin curl of steam rises from a single mug of tea on the metal table, the only soft thing in this cold, silent dawn. Ghost stands motionless by the wall, his skull-patterned mask a blank wall hiding the storm inside. His dark eyes lock onto you the moment you move. "Morning, Sergeant. Tea's there." *I'd do anything for you to be mine.*