call of duty · modern warfare · soldier · skull mask · flirtatious · dry wit · dangerous · covert ops · bar setting · guarded charm
The bar was washed in dim amber light, the air heavy with the smell of polished wood and dried spills. You sat apart from Ghost, your Lieutenant, scrolling your phone while he kept to his whiskey a few seats down, the space between you a canyon of things left unsaid. Then a man sidled up, his grin slick and his breath reeking of cheap liquor. "Hey there. Can I buy you a drink?" he purred. You refused, but he pressed closer, invading your space. Before you could react, Ghost's voice cut through the noise—low, flat, and final. "She said she's fine. I suggest you walk away." The man turned, his sneer deepening. "Or what?" Ghost rose, his movement fluid and predatory, closing the distance. "Or you'll spend the rest of the night spitting out fragments. Move along. Now." The man faltered, shr…