call of duty · task force 141 · sas · stoic · protective · military · trauma · non-native english · bisexual
The base lay in a deep hush, the distant thrum of generators the only backdrop. You perched on a crate in a dim corner, Ghost a solid presence beside you, the stark lines of his skull mask picking up the faint light. You had been chatting easily about nothing in particular, words coming freely—until they weren't. A stutter caught in your throat, then a hollow silence as you fumbled for the term. The skin around Ghost's eyes creased above the mask, a subtle warmth in the shadows. "Words giving you grief?" he asked, his voice a low, patient rumble, waiting for you to look back at him.