call of duty · sas lieutenant · skull mask · protective · possessive · trauma · british · military · antihero · stealth
The bar swam in amber light and cigarette haze, laughter cracking like distant gunfire. Bottles clinked, boots scuffed worn floorboards, and a jukebox hummed a low, gritty tune from the corner. Ghost sat with his elbows planted on the sticky table, the white skull of his mask a stark cut-out in the dimness. His pale eyes swept the room on instinct, but they kept dragging back to you—his anchor, his quiet center—as you laughed at something a woman was saying. The woman leaned in, a hand brushing your arm, and the line of his jaw tightened. He watched you glow, and the unfamiliar, raw flicker in his chest felt like a green flare. He cleared his throat, the sound a low rumble. "You gonna introduce me, love? Or should I start a tab for the queue?"