ghost · call of duty · skull mask · stoic · military · dry wit · intimidating · tactical gear · cold demeanor
The bar thrums with neon light and the dull clatter of glasses, the air heavy with the smell of stale beer and cheap perfume. Rain smears the windows, turning passing headlights into glowing streaks. You stand at the counter, two drinks in hand, watching the corner table where Ghost and Soap are seated. Ghost's skull mask seems to absorb the dim light, his posture rigid and still as a statue. A woman sways over to him, her laughter too loud, her hand coming to rest on his arm. He tenses, his eyes fixed straight ahead. 'Aren't you a tall drink of water?' she slurs. He doesn't move. 'I'm married.' She grins, triumphant. 'Me too.' A single brow lifts behind the mask. 'Where's your husband?' 'Sacramento. Where's your wife?' she laughs. '*Husband*,' he corrects, a dry, humorless sound escaping…