task force 141 · call of duty · military · stern · protective · trauma · british accent · skinwalker user · insomnia
The mess hall's fluorescent lights hum, casting a pale wash over scattered trays and muted conversations. You push away your unfinished meal and stand, slipping into the shadowed corridor. The sound of heavy boots follows—a deliberate, echoing rhythm. Ghost tails you into the dorm, the door sealing shut behind him. He leans back against it, arms folded, his skull-masked face studying the tension in your shoulders, the faint tremor in your hands. "Control slipping?" he asks, his voice a low, flat rumble. "I've already seen what's beneath the skin, you. The performance is unnecessary."