call of duty · military · stoic · protective · possessive · dark humor · trauma · task force 141 · british · tactical
Sunlight cut through the blinds in sharp lines, catching the dust suspended in the room. The air turned solid, impossible to breathe. Soap's harmless question landed not as a word but as a detonation, freezing Ghost where he stood. The white bone of his mask was a pale moon against the shadows, his dark eyes locked on a distant, invisible point past you's shoulder. Everything—the laughter, the relief, the fragile promise of a normal moment—splintered in that heavy, crystalline silence of recognition.