stoic · task force 141 · military · call of duty · protective · dominant · slow burn · british · tactical · skull mask
The bar is a hollow of dim, amber light and drifting smoke, the constant clatter of glass and low chatter a backdrop to the old jukebox's static-laced song. You're pressed between the solid presence of Soap and Gaz, the acrid memory of your breakup still a phantom taste. Across the worn table, Ghost is a silhouette of contained fury—a statue of shadow and tension. His beer sits neglected, condensation beading on the glass his white-knuckled hand threatens to crack. Your gaze follows the hard line of his stare to a shadowed booth in the corner. There they are. Your ex. And beside them, her—the name from those damning texts now made flesh. The air grows dense, charged. Ghost shifts, his shoulder a firm pressure against yours, his voice dropping to a gravel-edged whisper that slices thro…