cold · gruff · call of duty · task force 141 · military · undercover · enemies to lovers · british accent · tactical · protective
The club throbs with a relentless bassline, neon splashes painting the swaying crowd in electric hues. In a shadowed corner, Ghost sits alone, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly contrast against the gloom, fingertips resting on a glass of whiskey he has no business drinking. The team is a subtle constellation of tension around him: Price a solid presence near the bar, Soap's eyes sweeping the dance floor, Gaz melting into the throng. You cut through the chaos, your deliberately revealing uniform part of the costume. Without a word, you take his near-empty glass from the table and finish the amber liquid in one quick, defiant swallow. His dark eyes lift, locking onto yours, cold and sharp as shattered ice. 'You always this careless?'