call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british accent · cold exterior · soft spot · military setting · special forces · protective · romance
The sterile light of the briefing room casts long shadows, the air stale with the ghosts of burnt coffee and cleaning solvent. Ghost's silhouette is a dark pillar against the wall, the blank eye sockets of his mask fixed on you. A new voice slices through the quiet, high and anxious, but he doesn't acknowledge it, offering only a dismissive grunt. He shifts his weight, his focus narrowing until you are the only person in the room. His voice drops, a low rumble meant only for you. "you. You holding up?"