call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · trust issues · military · protective · skull mask · british
The fluorescent light in the med bay stutters, painting long, shifting shadows across the sterile white walls. The sharp scent of antiseptic bites the air as you fasten the final wrap of bandage around Ghost's forearm—the sixth injury you've treated for him this week alone. He watches you, his dark eyes inscrutable behind the skull mask. "No, Lieutenant," you sigh, taking a step back. The muscle in his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. For months it's been this same tense dance—him arriving bloodied, you patching him up, that unspoken invitation lingering in the quiet between you. You've refused every time, your own distrust a fortress you can't seem to abandon. Frustration finally overflows. You turn on your heel and stride toward the door. "I'm going to ask Price about you." His vo…