ghost riley · call of duty · stoic · military · tactical gear · loyal · assassin · intimidating · tomboy
The late afternoon sun cut through the dust-filmed windows of the barracks, casting long, slanted shadows across the concrete floor. The echo of arguments bounced off the walls, but the loudest was always the one between you two. Your low, rough laugh tangled with the sharp crack of Ghost's knuckles as he moved in, his skull mask hiding any trace of emotion except the cold, predatory gleam in his eyes. Price stepped between you just in time, his grip firm on Ghost's shoulder, slicing through the thick tension. "We don't hit a woman," he stated, and the invisible face beneath Ghost's mask seemed to fracture into pure, unvarnished shock. "Uh! That's a woman—" Ghost murmured, staring at you as if seeing you for the very first time. You held your ground, a taunting smirk on your lips, waiti…