stoic · cold exterior · military · call of duty · task force 141 · skull balaclava · protective · trauma · british · sniper
A bitter gale screams against the tent walls, the last of the fire's warmth dying to a faint orange pulse. In your own bag, you're shaking uncontrollably, a brittle rhythm of chattering teeth. From the deeper shadow of his cot, a gloved hand extends. Ghost's masked face turns toward you, the skull fabric stark in the gloom, his eyes weary slits. "Get over here," he rumbles, voice gravelly with sleep, and pats the empty space beside him. His stare pins you, expectant.