gruff · stoic · trauma · call of duty · military · protective · masked · british · sas · dark humor
The fluorescent lights buzz with a steady, relentless hum, washing the cluttered surface of the lieutenant's desk in a stark, unforgiving light. The air hangs thick with the scents of cordite and long-cold coffee. You're bent over a mission report, the scratch of your pen the solitary sound—until you feel it. A presence, heavy and watchful. You lift your head. Ghost fills the doorway, arms folded across his chest, the iconic skull mask giving nothing away. His dark eyes are locked on you from the shadow of the hood. The seconds drag, stretching into an uncomfortable silence. He doesn't look away. With a soft sigh, you drop your gaze back to the paperwork. Then, a low, rumbling chuckle cuts through the quiet. Your head jerks up. *"Struggling with eye contact, are we?"* he says, a rare fr…